


1994

by Vee



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - 90's, Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:43:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 124,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vee/pseuds/Vee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before cell phones. Before the Kardashians. Before internet porn. The year is 1994. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, poor kids from the wrong side of the tracks, have been transferred with the rest of their neighborhood to the posh, uptown Trost High (Home of the Titans). Mikasa and Armin seem to fit in well enough, but Eren isn't quite so lucky. Of course, most of this has to do with Eren's personality. When he accepts a bet to lose his virginity (and actually prove that someone likes him) by the end of the semester, it's hard for him to deny the improbability of winning. After all, the only one he seems to be talking to these days is the weirdly pretty (and just plain weird) goth working at the donut shop down the street...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Also you know it's A/U because Jean is actually a winner at life.
> 
> Sorry Jean bb, I absolutely love you.
> 
> Yes! My first SnK fic, what's up, fandom? Just trying this on for size because wow, these cuties. ~~All These Cuties~~
> 
> Why 90's high school A/U? Why Levi in goth clothes and eyeliner? Because these are possibilities and I have no self-restraint.
> 
> Will not be a behemoth like most of my A/U fics, tbh. Maybe seven, eight chapters. Maybe a bit longer. I make no guarantees, though, you know how these things happen.

“I’m home.” I always said it when I walked inside, hoping deep in my gut somewhere that I’d hear an answer from someone other than Mikasa.

“Hey.” Again, though, it was only her, regarding with me the standard half-smile that only looked sunny if you caught her by the eyes. She hurried through the door of the kitchen and snapped the air as she passed into the hallway. “Hey, did you need the car for anything?”

By asking, she was asking if I needed a ride anywhere. Dad had given me permission to use the station wagon whenever he was gone (which was always), but 1) it was a station wagon, and 2) it broke down more reliably than it started. Following the inevitable pattern, it hadn’t lasted one full day into my first week at Trost High. I’d been sure to cover all the angles for making a good first impression at a new school, but everything had blown up in my face by the time I dragged Mikasa over to jump the battery with her Buick in the parking lot at the end of our first day.

“What? Oh, nah. I’ll probably walk to the donut shop later, grab something to eat.” She was putting on a pair of earrings in the doorway, watching me while I slumped into the couch and grabbed for the remote control. “What?” I prompted her.

“That party’s tonight; do you still not want to go?”

“Tsch.” I turned on the TV and started flipping through the channels compulsively. Like I’d give anyone the satisfaction of a pity invitation. I’d only been asked along because Mikasa made a good impression on an upperclassman, jumping a car battery all by herself in a pair of overall shorts after school. I’d been in earshot when the details were discussed.

_“Your little brother can come too,” was the begrudging way I’d been included. I only kept an eye on the guy because he was checking her out; if I couldn’t have a car, maybe I could at least start a fight on my first day._

_“Step-brother,” Mikasa corrected him. It was easier to explain than ‘foster brother’, and no one ever asked us to explain it._

_“Your little step-brother.”_

“I don’t want to go to that stupid party. It’s gonna be full of rich kids and preps. I’m just going to get through this school year as quickly as possible. I don’t want to meet anyone.”

“Armin’s going.”

“Armin can do what he wants!” She noticed, though, that I stopped flipping through channels at that. What was Armin doing, going to that party? He was like fresh bait for the sort of kids that went to Trost High. He’d barely been a blip on the food chain at our old school. I looked over at her and lowered the remote to my lap. “What? Is this some ploy to get me to come along, so I can look after Armin?”

“It’s going to be fun.” She sighed.

I left the TV on when I got up, and grabbed my keys off the coffee table. The school parking pass was still dangling from my keyring, but I didn’t quite feel like giving up on the idea of having a car to put it in just yet. Maybe, way in the back of my mind, I was hoping that dad would come home with a new Neon as a very late birthday present for me.

“Are you leaving? Eren, you just got home.” Mikasa sounded disappointed, but also like she was scolding me. She was barely a year older than me, and it got on my nerves more and more as we got older to hear that parental tone slip into her words.

“I’m hungry!” I snapped back, and left.

Our house was near the paper factory, in an area of town that always smelled like chemicals and never seemed to get any sun. It was full of shuttered businesses and ill-maintained roads. Even the schools had closed, and all the kids unfortunate enough to live in the area were bussed to the next district. The two years I’d been able to spend at Shinganshina High before it was defunded had been pretty good, I thought. Being poor wasn’t so bad when you were surrounded by other poor kids. The move to Trost High, on top of requiring us to leave thirty minutes earlier every morning, meant that suddenly I was on the bottom – way on the bottom. It had only been three days. Already I wanted to run off and beg the Peace Corps to take me at 16 years old. I’d lie if I had to. Dad wouldn’t even notice I was gone. Pretty much the only thing keeping me from packing a suitcase and heading to the bus station was Mikasa.

The donut shop on the end of the street was the only place to get food unless I wanted to hoof it another three miles to the downtown area. I never wanted to do that, not even when I had a car to drive. Besides, I’d long ago grown fond of the hot dogs they served. I ordered my usual dinner and sat down at one of the outdoor tables that hadn’t dry-rotted into a fire hazard yet. Suddenly I wasn’t hungry, but two dollars was two dollars. I looked around with a sigh, trying to build up my appetite. I’d have the house to myself for the evening, at least. I could try to catch the neighbors’ satellite dish signal and watch Cinemax, jerk off a couple of times, and not worry about having Mikasa around.

She’d been right, though, in that annoyingly manipulative way she always was. I couldn’t think of leaving Armin at the mercy of our new classmates.

A dark green Camaro, an ’89 by the look of it, came crunching through the gravel parking lot and rolled to a stop behind the building, just within my line of sight. With nothing better to focus on, I watched as the door opened and someone – presumably an employee – stepped out.

I knew most of the people who worked at the donut shop, but I’d never seen this guy. Unfamiliarity combined with an undeniable envy over his gorgeous car, and I blatantly followed him with my eyes as he gathered his things from the backseat.

He was short; he was absolutely short. Like, shorter-than-most-of-the-freshmen-at-my-school short. Despite that, he was undoubtedly older than me. His hair was parted down the middle and he was dressed in all black. When he turned to walk toward the building I noticed three things: his pants were made of leather, his wallet chain hung down to his knee, and his boots had just slightly more heel to them than most guys could get away with.

He was a goth, I realized with an almost-sneer. Just as quickly as I thought it, I noticed his head jerk my way, and he unmistakably looked right at me. As stupidly resolute as I was to start some trouble before the end of the night, I just looked right back. He smirked at first, eyes not deviating until he was sure I’d seen him. When he scanned the rest of the table, however, I saw him pause.

I hadn’t actually wanted him to walk over. Immediately I started to come up with a reason why I’d been eyeing him so evilly. It was just the way my face _looked_ , honestly; everyone thought I was trying to pick a fight, regardless of circumstances (usually I was). With that excuse at the ready, I looked down at my chili dog and forced myself to summon forth an appetite as he approached.

“Hey,” he tried to regain my attention, the heart of exasperation in his tone like he didn’t care if I paid attention or not. “Kid. Hey, kid.”

My eyes flicked over, almost like my body was forcing me to regard him one way or another. He didn’t wait for me to address him before he went on. “You go to Trost?”

He pointed at the keys I’d left on the table beside my food, more specifically the Trost High School parking pass. He’d been particularly eagle-eyed to catch that from so far away, but I supposed if one was looking for it, it was difficult to miss a giant ‘T’ in electric blue and white hanging from an otherwise measly set of keys. Especially in the bleakness of the Shinganshina neighborhood, the bright colors stood out.

“Yeah, I do now,” I replied bitterly. Finally I lifted my eyes to look at him. I tried to rein in my surprise. His brows were unnaturally thin and he was wearing eyeliner. I didn’t like admitting this about other guys, but it wasn’t the first time it had happened: he was strange, but he was _pretty_.

I looked down again almost immediately.

“What’s your Vice Principal named?”

I’d not been expecting another question at all, much less that one. He was still pointing at my keys. I was trying to keep from blushing. I could normally buck off authority with a well-timed roll of my eyes, but his tone of voice was persistently keeping me pinned down. It felt exhilaratingly annoying. “Vice Principal?” I repeated. “You mean Vice Principal Smith?”

He withdrew his pointing finger primly, curling his wrist back in a subtle flick before he turned to walk away, just like that. He didn’t even thank me for my answer, just made his way over to the donut shop and went in through the back entrance. Maybe complete confusion drove me to finish my food, but it was definitely gross curiosity that made me go back to the window for a drink before I left.

He was behind the counter, still wearing his eyeliner and black t-shirt, with the addition of a dull red employee apron. I gave him a puzzled look before I even asked for a large Dr. Pepper, hoping he would catch my drift and throw me a bone.

“What is it? Do you want something?”

“Yes! Why did you ask me that? That was really weird.”

“Oh.” He learned forward just slightly, presumably out of his manager’s earshot. “I know him.” That answered absolutely nothing, and a slow blinking reaction was all I could give. “If you’re not going to order anything, stop wasting my time.”

I got my drink and left. His nametag said ‘Levi’. I’d definitely not seen him before.

The sun set completely on my way home, and it was dark by the time I pushed the door open and informed Mikasa that I was back.

Armin was sitting on the couch. It wasn’t unusual for him to show up at our house, of course, and normally I’d sit down and tell him all about the weird new guy at the donut shop who asked about Vice Principal Smith. But Armin was dressed up. Armin looked nervous. Armin was eyeing me like he was about to cling to my leg for help.

“I’m not going to the stupid party!” I said immediately.

Thirty minutes later, I was trying for the third time to lock the door on Mikasa’s Buick as I lamented getting into the car in the first place. “No, Eren, you need to hold the handle up while you—“

“I know! I know, okay?” I tried one last time, finally got it right, and nearly tripped over the curb as I turned to join Mikasa and Armin on the unfamiliar lawn.

“Oh my god, Eren, you’re freaking out. Calm down,” Mikasa instructed me as I hurried over.

“It’s really nice here,” Armin pointed out, eyeing the more expensive cars lining the road. “This is a rich neighborhood.”

And that, I would have explained to Mikasa, was why I was freaking out. Poor kids didn’t go to Trost High. Poor kids didn’t go to rich kid parties. My defenses were off the charts. “Whose house is this, anyway?” I asked.

“That guy who was in the parking lot with us the other day. Jean.”

I bristled at the thought of the guy who’d been undressing Mikasa with his eyes. “So how did Armin get invited?”

“I’m in Physics with him. We sit next to each other. He’s nice!”

Something about it felt upsetting, like we were being set up for an elaborate prank. Not Mikasa, of course (which was part of the problem). Whatever his intentions, there was absolutely no reason to trust one of Trost High’s elite as “nice” until I vetted him for myself.

“Mikasa!” Jean found us within minutes of entering the crowded, vaulted-ceiling, noisy house that smelled of privilege. “Welcome to mi casa!”

“Oh my god, I hate him,” I muttered under my breath.

“Don’t be a jerk tonight.” Mikasa pinched my arm before returning the greeting.

I’d expected a few words and maybe a vague insinuation that Mikasa should ditch us before Jean went on to the rest of his friends, but instead he stuck around us most of the evening. Even when I tried to wander off on my own, Mikasa would always find me, and where Mikasa appeared, Armin and Jean weren’t far behind. Eventually I resigned myself to the inevitable horrors of forced socializing, and we all wound up in papasan chairs in Jean Kirschtein’s sunroom, drinking Bud Light and trying to find even ground.

He asked us about things both pertinent and impertinent, presumably trying to get to know us, but I was sharp enough to notice that he addressed Mikasa most of the time. I wasn’t budging in my determination to give him the cold shoulder, even if he was providing me with beer and a safe place to drink it. “My dad’s a cop,” he explained. “He doesn’t mind if we drink, as long as no one tries to drive home after. By the way, since you’ve never been to one of my parties, here’s the spiel: feel free to crash. Don’t drive because my dad does have people pulled over if he knows I’m throwing one of these things.” I didn’t like the way he looked at Mikasa after saying all that.

“Your parents really don’t mind?” Armin asked, something close to enchantment in his voice. I almost felt embarrassed for him.

“No, they go next door and hang out with the Hoovers. My parents are cool, guys. Chill out. Welcome to Trost, I usually do one or two of these a month.” He offered his beer can to the center of the circle of chairs, and Mikasa politely toasted him with her own. Armin followed. I hesitated.

“Okay, I can no longer ignore that you’re being a total shit.” He pointed at me and laughed just above his breath. At the last moment before I would have usually taken it as an invitation to throw down, Mikasa managed to catch my eye and gave me a stern bow of her eyebrows.

I just sighed. “I don’t feel comfortable.”

“I don’t know what else to tell you, man. If you can’t feel comfortable here, I don’t know what else to tell you.” He leaned in and spoke carefully, then. “I know someone who might be holding, so if you wanna get high in a few, if that would help, I can—“    

“Why are you being nice to us?!” I suddenly cried out, half in desperation and half in true frustration. Everything was surreal. We weren’t supposed to _be_ there, it was not where we belonged.

Jean’s eyes darted all around, worried maybe that my outburst would draw the wrong sort of attention. “I like making friends?” He replied, a rhetorical question on the end of his tone. “You guys have it hard enough, coming over in your senior year to a whole new school, and—“

“I’m a junior,” I interrupted him and sighed.

“Me too,” Armin added. “I’m just in advanced classes.”

Jean shrugged. “Well, there you go, though. It sucks to be at a new school, but you seem cool enough. I mean, Mikasa and Armin do. Eren, whatever your deal is, you need to knock it off. Take a pill or get laid, I don’t know man, but do something. You’re like… grrr… all the time.”

“Hey, don’t you worry about my sex life, okay?” I chuckled, trying to mask my nerves with bravado.

“Hmm, I don’t tend to worry about things that don’t exist.” He leaned back with an insufferable smirk on his insufferable face. Mikasa seemed too stunned to react, but Armin stifled a laugh. I sucker-punched him in the arm immediately.

“Ow!”

“Armin, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

“But it was funny!” He lowered his voice, but not low enough. “And true.”

Jean shot fingers at both of us; first me, then Armin. “Virgins?”

Armin just shrugged. He’d never been one to boast, and he’d never been one to lie. I deflected the attention. “Hey, hey, hey, why aren’t you asking Mikasa?”

“Because, Eren, you ass,” Jean explained like I was the biggest idiot he’d ever encountered, “it is rude to ask a lady about her sexual history.”

“I’m not a virgin,” Mikasa blurted out.

I glared at her in horror. Jean’s eyes went from me, back to her, and landed on me again. “Ew, I sincerely hope you two didn’t—“

“No!” We cried out in unison. Even Armin recoiled just a bit at that.

“Okay, so we need to get the two of you laid, then. I’ll try my utmost to make it happen tonight. Armin, who do you like?”

Armin froze and I automatically felt sympathy pains. I should have known by the way his voice wavered just slightly when he first told me that Jean was “nice”, but now it was fairly blatant. At least it was blatant to me. As far as I knew, I was the only one Armin had told since he started to care about boys far more than he cared about girls. “I don’t… like anyone…” he said bashfully, eyes cast down.

 “We’ll find you someone, then! What’s your type? Tall, short, blonde, brunette, big boobs, long legs?” He leaned over and started to tousle Armin’s hair. Armin was blushing, but he was laughing uncomfortably nonetheless.

Mikasa had been right to bring me along, after all. I stepped in before he cracked. “What about me?”

“I was talking to Armin.”

“He obviously doesn’t like anyone!” _Certainly not you. God, I hope his taste improves as he gets older._ “And besides, I’m the one you said needed to get laid.”

“You’re totally on your own.” He snorted and turned to Mikasa. “You live with him? How do you stand it?”

“I’ll bet you I can get laid.”

“Eren…” Mikasa started.

“Oh? A bet? Really? Really, ghetto kid, you want to place a wager?”

“All the more reason you should be scared to take it. Don’t underestimate me.”

He pointed at Mikasa. “Again, if you two are secretly—“

“Ew, no!” Mikasa shoved his hand away, but I noticed her squeeze it just slightly when she did. “Stop suggesting that, you’re the perv here. Eren’s a total virgin, god! Eren, don’t do anything stupid tonight.”

Jean shrugged again, flourishing his now-empty beer can. “So what are the terms?”

“I’ll bet I can get laid before the end of the semester. If I don’t…”   

“End of the semester? That’s a pretty broad scope. I can give you three or four names that wouldn’t discriminate _tonight_ , not that I’ll give them to you.”

“Maybe I actually want to like the person.”

This seemed to spark something. He raised one eyebrow challengingly. “Maybe I want proof that the person actually likes _you_. Which I think is going to be more impossible.”

“Done. Fine.”

“So if I win, you pay the down payment on my car.”

“Whoa! Whoa, that’s pretty steep!”

“What? Money is like, nothing to you, right? You’re loaded.” I gestured around the room. Maybe his dad was a cop, but there was some serious money coming into that house. “Besides, you’re so sure you’re going to win, aren’t you? What’s it to you?”

Mikasa just rolled her eyes and leaned over to say something to Armin. I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye, but Jean got my attention back just as quickly. “Okay, good point. And, since I’m a _nice person_ , if I win, you don’t have to give me anything. You just need to live with the fact that you failed.”

“Listen,” I chuckled. “If you’re still trying to win points with Mikasa or something, I assure you that she’s not going to do it with you tonight so you might as well give up.”

He ignored me. “Whatever. So do we have a bet?”

“Yeah, you’re on!”

I remember drinking another few beers after that and talking about how many fights I’d been in, and how many I’d won (I hadn’t won any of them, technically, but neither Armin nor Mikasa was around to refute me). I woke up in the den splayed over a couch cushion that had been dragged halfway across the room. My head was pounding. As soon as I remembered where I was, I tiptoed clumsily around the place, searching for Armin and Mikasa. Armin, I finally found sleeping next to the stairs, wrapped in something that looked suspiciously like a letter jacket with Jean’s last name on the back. I purposefully didn’t think about it, and told him we needed to find Mikasa and leave.

“Why?” He asked blearily. “Jean said no one has to leave until this afternoon, and his parents are buying lunch for whoever stays to help clean up.”

 _Because I fucking hate Jean Kirschtein, that’s why we have to leave_ , is what I wanted to say. “Because the game’s on this afternoon. I wanna get back in time to watch it.”

“Oh yeah,” he yawned. “Mikasa might be upstairs still.”

“What do you mean _still_?”

“I don’t know, leave me alone. My head hurts so bad…”

The last thing I wanted to do was go upstairs. Lucky for me, when I opened the front door to get a bit of fresh air, Mikasa was sitting on the steps drinking a cup of coffee. “Where’d you get coffee? I want coffee.” I sat down next to her and fought against how the sun made my stomach turn.

“Jean made it this morning. I think there’s still a cup left.” She looked at me over the brim as she took another sip.

“No, thank you,” I growled immediately.

“God, Eren, don’t hate him. He’s a cool guy.”

“You seemed to think so.” I knew I was being a brat, but it was just in my nature, especially after I’d just woken up.  

“What do you care? At least I didn’t make any stupid bets about stupid things.”

I remembered the bet with a groan. “Oh, yeah. Well, if I lose at least I don’t lose anything.”

“Except your pride.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Mikasa threw her arm around my shoulders and grabbed me in a quick hug. “You’re such an idiot,” she said almost-sweetly.

I caught a whiff of her and didn’t quite like it. She didn’t smell like Mikasa. “So what did you end up doing after we all split up?”

“I went to Jean’s room.”

I actually found it impossible to react. My face screwed up a little, but for the most part I just sat there, staring at her. She glanced away and shook her head slightly. “It was okay, I guess.”

“I don’t want to know how it _was_ ,” I said in a grave whisper.

She stood up and wiped off the back of her jeans. “He finished too fast. I wouldn’t do it again, but he _is_ cute.”

“Oh my god…”

“Are you ready? Grab Armin.”

Like a zombie, I walked back into the house and found Armin sitting in the kitchen, drinking his own cup of coffee. Unfortunately, Jean was leaning over the counter and talking to him. It was too late to shrink back around the corner once I’d caught sight of them, so I just gritted my teeth and walked forward. “Armin, we’re leaving.”

I turned around and started back out before he even said, “Okay.”

I turned around in the front seat to talk to him once we were in the car. I wasn’t currently on speaking terms with Mikasa. “You look happy for someone with a hangover,” I told him.

“Yeah…”

I narrowed my eyes and tried to extract his meaning. Armin just bit his lower lip and gave me a clandestine grin. I wondered if anything more than the obvious was going on, but whatever the case I didn’t like how happy even a brief interaction with Jean had rendered my best friend. I turned back around and rolled my eyes, sighing. “I really need to win that bet,” I muttered.

“Armin, are you gay?” Mikasa suddenly asked. I sat bolt upright and turned as slowly as possible to look at him again.

Again, Armin was not one to lie. However, he hated being caught off guard. “Um! I… yes! I think! Yes, I am! I’ve never… but yes!”

“What the hell, Mikasa, where did that come from?” I asked, flicking her shoulder with my forefinger.

“Jean asked,” she explained. She, apparently, was still honoring our agreement to not speak for the time being, and addressed Armin. “He thinks you’re cute.”

“What is _with_ that guy?!” I asked, yelling at no one in particular.

“Eren, everyone likes Jean except you,” Armin said softly, but I could practically hear the squeal of excitement over what Mikasa had told him.

“I am going to win that bet,” I buried my face in my hands and tried to deny how badly I wanted to throw up.    


	2. Chapter 2

 

As the first week at Trost High drew to a close, I finished on the plus side with one more friend, if I could even call him that. I liked Connie. Connie was an okay guy. An easily excitable guy who was really good at getting us in trouble for talking in class, but an okay guy.

“Jean Kirschtein?” He shut the door of his locker and made a weird face at me. “Why, what about him?”

I automatically felt embarrassed for having asked. “Just… what’s his deal?”

Connie seemed to know what was going on around the school, as well as what had gone on prior to my arrival, to the extent that I couldn’t help calling on his talents to figure out a few things.

“I still don’t follow.”

I took in a very deep breath and let it out before leaning as close as I dared. “I mean, is he gay? Is he straight? Does he just sleep with everyone? Does he have some angle I don’t know about?”

“Why, did he hit on you or something?” I decided to ignore the incredulous look on his face as he said that.

I knew I would start to turn red if I thought about it enough (from indignation, mind you), so I answered as quickly as possible: “My step-sister.” I paused. “And… and Armin.”

“Armin, no shit? Wow.” Connie hefted his backpack over one shoulder and started to walk. I kept pace. “Well, the thing with Jean is, he’s still sort of getting used to being single, so I think he’s just playing the field pretty extensively. I mean, pickings are easy when you’re rich and popular, right? Even when you look as unfortunate as he does.” I had to laugh. At least someone agreed with me. Connie paused, though, and stopped to give his next question the gravity it apparently deserved. He was an overdramatic sort. “Wait, did you go to one of his parties?”

“Yeah, but—“

His eyes went wide in an instant. “What? No way! Are you secretly popular or something?”

I tried not to feel offended, especially since he seemed slightly betrayed by the fact that I’d not mentioned it before. “No! It was just because Mikasa went, and… you know what, never mind! Forget that! Anyway, what, he was dating someone? Like, was it serious?”

“Yeah! I mean, everyone knew Jean and Marco were together. I guess it was this big thing because, you know, you expect a gay couple to be bullied or whatever, but Jean was this really popular guy and everyone liked him, so—“

I cut him off in a hurry. “So what happened, did he cheat and get dumped?” I was, perhaps, projecting my wishes a little strongly. I was unfazed by the idea of his sexuality; after all, I’d known about Armin’s preferences for some time, and it seemed like something of a natural progression. Mikasa’s constant company hadn’t been the best introduction to my concept of girls, either. There had to be _something_ , though; if I couldn’t have the advantage otherwise, maybe I could claim a moral high ground. 

“Nah, man. Marco’s dad got stationed overseas so he had to move. They broke up, and it sort of tore Jean apart. From what I’ve heard he’s been doing whatever he wants since then, trying to land on his feet. I feel sorry for the guy. I mean, everyone knew he was head over heels. I guess he likes girls, too, then? Okay, I can see that. I mean, especially Mikasa. Your sister’s cute, man.”

“Step-sister. Shut up, Connie.” I said with a baleful tone, dragging behind him by a few paces. The revelation did not improve my mood.

Mikasa drove me home and I went inside only to deposit my books on the couch. “I’m going to the donut shop,” I announced, and left before she had time to tell me something about not stuffing my face full of fast food all the time. I’d have said something awful and gross about not stuffing her face full of random guys, but there it was, just below the surface: I was jealous. Jealous that she was pretty, jealous that she was popular. Maybe I was misdirecting my jealousy, but Mikasa was _there_ , and it was easy. My only interest at the moment was brooding in general over the fact that I didn’t feel like talking to anyone or having anyone talk to me.

At least I was hungry. I had two hot dogs in my gullet by the time I looked over from the table and noticed that the weird short guy was back, and this time he was watching me from his spot behind the shop.

We looked at each other for a long, tense moment, and I felt the need to indicate somehow that yes, I saw him. I lifted my hand in a lame half-wave, and he just lifted a cigarette to his lips, not looking away from me as he dragged off of it. A few moments later, he started toward my table, flicking the butt into the gravel on his way.

“Smoking’s bad for you,” I pointed out.

“Shut the fuck up.” I’d never been spoken to like that before. The surface of it was abrasive and hostile, but beneath that, there was a layer of genuine disinterest. Not dismissive, exactly, but only nominally concerned with whether I followed the order or not. He was an adult, wasn’t he? An adult was talking back to me like that. It felt odd. I was still quite used to getting away with saying anything and being excused because I was still a kid. “They’re clove cigarettes. So what, do you live close by? You’ve been here every day since I started.”

“Why do you care?”

“It’s a simple question.”

“Yes. So why did you ask me that weird question the other day? Are you planning the kill the Vice Principal or something?”

He paused, but for the life of me I couldn’t read the expression on his face. Mikasa had a talent for looking completely blank, but this guy looked like he was experiencing every emotion at once, and was in slight pain because of it. “Yes. Yes, precisely. I am planning to kill him.”

“No you’re not.”

He shook his head. “Wow, you got me. I just _know_ him, okay? If I’d known you were such a shithead I wouldn’t have even asked.”

I expected him to walk away after that, but he didn’t. He pulled the sleeve up on his sweatshirt and checked his watch. The tension of having him nearby made me ask: “Are you on break, or what?”

“Yeah, and I forgot to bring a book.”

“Your name’s Levi, right?”

“Brilliant, you read my name tag.”

If I was anything (and Mikasa could attest to this), I was never one to be intimidated by an obviously salty personality, especially not when the person insisted on remaining in close physical proximity. “I’m Eren.”

“I don’t really give a shit,” he answered, and lifted one of his boots to pick a sand burr off the lace. After a few seconds of silence, he sighed like he had no other choice but to continue our conversation, and did. “So do you even have friends, or do you have nothing better to do than come to this place every day?”

“I have friends!” I bristled, inexplicably upset by this. “I just don’t want to talk to them right now, is all.”

“And you’re what, 15?”

“I’m 16!” I had to remind myself not to let him get too much of a rise out of me. He seemed the kind who would be most pleased with himself for it. “What are you, 40?”

I didn’t look directly over at him, but out of the corner of my eye I saw Levi give me the withering, pitying sort of expression you reserve for people who try too hard. “You’re cute. I’m 25.”

Fantastic. The first instance in my high school life of someone actually telling me I was cute, and it was complete sarcasm. I didn’t know how to react to that. I supposed it wasn’t the time for small talk, nor was I completely sure that I even _wanted_ to get to know him.

“I like your car,” I finally said, after shoring up considerable courage.

“I hate it.” He stood up and wiped his hands of whatever imaginary dirt he’d picked up in the process of being close to me. I took the opportunity to lift an eyebrow at him in puzzlement. “I gotta get back to work.”

He disappeared, and within a few minutes I decided I was far too worked up to stick around. Food from the shop never tended to sit well in the first place, so strange nerves didn’t help matters. I stopped at the window to order my usual drink before I headed home.

“Dr. Pepper, right? Again?” Levi asked. I just nodded, half-expecting some attack on my taste or predictability.

He handed over a large soda and gave me a sharp, nearly insulted look when I tried to give him a dollar. “It’s free, dumbass. Just take it.”

“Thank you,” I barely said, resolving not to let him see me blush as I turned away.

A normal Friday night would consist of going home, looking at my homework, deciding not to do a thing about my homework (but vaguely gauging how late on Sunday I could wait until starting it), calling Armin, and either talking or watching TV until sleep seemed more appealing. He wanted to watch the new episodes of _The Real World_ , and though I didn’t really care I liked watching TV with him, so I picked up to phone to see if he wanted company at home.

Armin lived with his grandfather, and what time he didn’t spend taking care of the old man was spent trying to keep the noise level low enough to not wake him up. Hence, Armin was at our house most of the time. It’s not that it was uncomfortable, going to the Arlert house, especially since there was always good food and I loved their pet collie, but keeping it down was often a challenge for me. That night particularly, though, I was still not quite up to the task of being in close quarters with Mikasa.

The phone rang twice. Armin’s grandfather answered. “Mr. Arlert, is Armin home?”

“Eren? No, no, he’s gone out for the night.”

“Oh!” I was completely unprepared for that. I paused until it became weird. “Oh… okay. Well, tell him I called.”

“I will. Goodbye!”

“Yeah, bye.”

I hung up the phone and held it up by the cord, letting it spin out of its knotted twists (dad still hadn’t sprung for a cordless). While I was standing there not knowing what I was thinking, Mikasa appeared in the kitchen and ducked into the fridge.

“So Armin went out tonight.”

“Yeah? And?”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“I think he went on a date.”

I hung up the phone as gently as possible, for effect, and turned to her _very_ slowly. Again, for effect. “What?”

“Yeah, he has a date with Jean. He didn’t want to tell you because he knew you’d freak out.” She stood her ground, peeling the wrapper off some string cheese and just daring me to prove her right.

Knowing that – and not caring whether I was being manipulated for a few moments – I cleared my throat and laughed as convincingly as I could. “Poor guy, he’s just being used.”

Mikasa shrugged and tore a chunk off the string cheese, shooting me much the same look Levi had given me earlier. “So? Maybe Armin wants to have fun while he’s still young.”

“What are you saying?”

“Put your _dukes_ down, you’re not gonna fight me. Settle down. Stop being so serious all the time. Be happy for Armin.”

“Why would I be happy for him?” _I’m the one left alone on a Friday night._

Mikasa sighed and shook her head. As she had a habit of doing, she ignored my question because she knew I didn’t really want an answer. She looked around the kitchen, quickly forgetting (or just giving up on) the conversation. “Do you wanna play some Sonic?”

“No.”

“Whatever. I’m gonna play some Sonic.” She threw away her empty wrapper and walked past me.

The donut shop closed at nine o’clock. I showed up about ten minutes before.

“Oh, hell no. I’m not turning the fryers back on just for you,” Levi said when I approached. “I have another job to be at, and I am outta here as soon as we close.”

“I’m just going to get a donut,” I grumbled.

“These have literally been sitting out since the five o’clock bake,” he informed me. “That’s gross.”

“I don’t care.”

“You didn’t really get a craving for a donut, did you, kid?” He leaned over the counter a little and smirked at me. “You’re pissed off about something. What happened? Girlfriend didn’t have time to jack you off before her parents got home?”

In my mind, the glare I gave him could cut steel. He took it as a challenge. “Okay, then. This isn’t your personal bar and I’m not your bartender, but you’d never be able to sneak into one to talk to anyone who’d pretend to care, so I’ll bite. What happened?”

“No,” I decided to be a brat. “You’ve got another job to go to. Who the hell has another job this late on a Friday night, anyway?”

His smirk was usually just an emotionless twitch of the mouth that was a smirk in definition alone, This time it blossomed slightly, and I must have looked borderline horrified to see him expressing something other than boredom. “Certain people do. People in certain lines of work.”

“Okay, whatever.” Then, blowing right past what I’d said: “My friends ditched me.”

“Really? A sparkling charmer like you? I’m floored. That’s impossible to believe.”

“Ha, ha, really funny.”

“So I’m assuming you decided to walk off the frustration? Need to beat someone up?” He paused. “Need to _act like_ you could possibly beat someone up?”

“You’re one to talk.”

“You really do not want to go there.” His voice went deathly serious all of a sudden.

My nostrils flared out. I was going to hit a nerve if it killed me, and I knew I was getting close. “Okay, I don’t get it.”

“What don’t you get? Did you just change the subject? Please hurry up.”

I was going to dig deep enough that I’d make sure he wasn’t just looking down at me from his stupid order window, inwardly laughing at me, playing with me like I was a puppy. He was the only one I had to talk to (at least at the moment, which, for all I was concerned, was forever). I was going to make a connection if it killed me. “A guy like you, knowing the Vice Principal? He just doesn’t seem like the sort of person who’d put up with you for—“

“Are you still on that?”

“Yeah, first impressions stick, you know?”

“Oh, yeah, I do!” There was something about the way he said it that made me think it had more to do with the topic at hand than I would ever know.

“Besides, you’re 25? He’s what, 40?”

“Stop baselining people at 40, it’s annoying.”

“Well, he’s old.”

“Everything you say is annoying.”

“You’re still talking to me!”

He held out a hand and waved me closer. I noticed, with a gaze that lingered just a few more moments than it normally would, that he’d painted his fingernails red. That must have been done after I’d left the first time. I pushed past the twinge of trepidation I felt. “Come here. Fine. Come here. You’re really ready for this, you little shit? Come here.”

I drew up to the order window, on my tip-toes to lean as close as I could. I don’t think I stopped looking contentious the entire time. Levi leaned near me, and whispered in my ear: “We fucked. We may fuck again tonight if I play my cards right.”

My shoulders slumped and my brain went blank. My hands fell from the counter edge just in time for Levi to slam the window shut in my face. “Good night!” He sounded oddly happy as he shouted behind the glass. “Don’t you tell a fucking soul or I will break your knees!” He added.

I looked at my watch. Sure enough, it was nine o’clock. I hadn’t even gotten a donut.


	3. Chapter 3

A week or two, or whatever, it seemed like it didn’t matter, passed. My need for hot dogs and Dr. Pepper only piqued until I thought about the fact that I didn’t really want to go back to the donut shop and risk the embarrassment of seeing Levi again. It was bad enough that Connie had noticed me staring suspiciously at the Vice Principal while we ate lunch on the benches outside of the admin building. Nothing was making sense. Not people, not relationships, and definitely not my third period Chemistry class.

Armin offered his help if I would take it, and of course I did. We acted like the Friday night slight had never happened, but since it we agreed silently to not talk about his love life. The embargo on details lasted up until he was sighing over my horrible chemical bonds homework, gearing up for what I was expecting to be a lecture on how I needed to reexamine my basics if I wanted to survive my test tomorrow.

“Before you say anything, I have no idea what I’m doing with that,” I tried to head him off before he could make me feel stupid. He never meant to, and to be honest Armin actually made a very agreeable tutor. I just took everything too personally.

“It’s not that. This is simple, it will take me five minutes to explain it and I promise you’ll get it quickly. Maybe you won’t pass the test, but it won’t be my fault.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and ran his hands back through the length of his hair contemplatively. “There’re just other things on my mind.”

I was instantly apprehensive. “Oh, yeah?”

“I know you don’t want to talk about it. Like, I know you’re the furthest thing from gay and I hope I’m not making things weird by still being your best friend. It’s—“

“What?” I hurried in shock to catch up to his ramblings, and finally stalled him with my hands in the air. I rose to a straighter posture on my bed, which was nearly as big as my room and the only place I could find the privacy to study. “Whoa, Armin. Whoa. That’s totally not true, I don’t _care_ , like you can do whatever you want. I’m really okay with it, you’re not weird to me and this isn’t weird.”

“Really?” He seemed relieved by this, enough so that I thought better about adding _besides, I don’t think I’m exactly the furthest thing from gay, but that has yet to be decided._

“You don’t need to sound like you’re _grateful_ that I’m a decent friend, you know.”

“Sorry!”

I rolled my eyes and let his tendency to over-apologize slide. “So what is it? Was that it?”

“It just seemed like I couldn’t talk to you about Jean.”

“Well—“ My voice got louder automatically at the name, and my eyebrows bent in even more severely than usual.

“You don’t like _him_ , I get that! Which I still don’t get!” Armin was frantic to explain himself, like I would physically leave the room if he continued and it was his responsibility to keep me. “But I’m so happy, Eren! I just have to say something or I’m going to die. I can only write so much in a journal, and even then I feel really... you know… lonely.”

“But you have a boyfriend.” I was a horrible little shit of a brat.

“I don’t know! It’s not official! That’s one of the things I wanted to talk about!”

He just looked so _sad_ , so _desperate._ If Armin wasn’t going to get everything he wanted in life from the person who wound up falling in love with him, I’d be damned. I could never manipulate people that way, and even if I tried it would never seem like the gentle, well-intentioned manipulation that Armin knew innately. “Okay, fine. What do you mean, will he not call you his boyfriend or something?”

I’d known Armin since we were toddlers. The fact that I was thinking about someone else getting close to him was bad enough. The fact that I worried about him was worse. And then, the fact that it was _that guy_ …

“We talked about it. Last night, we talked about it.”

“You’re going on Wednesday dates now?”

“On the _phone_ , Eren,” he explained sourly. I shrugged. “I asked if we were dating officially now, and he said yeah, he supposed we were. So I said I never expected to have a boyfriend so quickly. He got all stupid and flustered after that, like he was backtracking, saying he wasn’t sure if we were boyfriends yet. Like, he seems to have some personal definition of that I can’t get out of him. It’s already tiring.”

“Well, you know about his ex.”

“Yeah, apparently he was pretty incredible. He still talks about him a lot. Not in a weird way, just he’ll be telling a story or talking about something, and mention Marco before he realizes it, then he’ll look at me and say he’s sorry. You know, he lays it on thick that he’s getting over it but he still looks pitiful when he thinks about him. I just want to make him feel better.”

I had no idea what to say. I felt trapped. Maybe I could fake a sudden fit of whooping cough. Maybe I could fall off the bed and break my leg. That would get me out of the conversation. “Yeah…” I said, my eyes scanning for exits.

“Jean lost his virginity with him.” A pause. “Eren, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to suffocate myself with this pillow,” I explained, muffled by fabric.

Armin snatched the pillow from me and hit me with it. I flinched and actually laughed, because at least it made Armin smile. “Stop it! You ass! This is important to me, I really like him.”

“Well, if you really do, and you really want my advice…” _Why? Why would you want MY advice?_ “Just let it happen. Go on about your business and just do the dating thing until he feels like opening up.”

Ugh. I felt like a total tool for that. Ugh. I felt like confronting Jean at school, informing him apropos of nothing that he owed me now.

“It’s really hard, though. I can’t stop thinking about him. Especially now.”

“Yeah, obviously.” But there was something about the accent he’d put on _now_ that made me pause, squint, and prompt Armin for more. “Okay, wait, what do you mean by that? What’s that look on your face? Armin, are you blushing?”

“It’s…”

“Armin, did you have sex with him?” I leaned forward over my knees and shouted.

“Keep it down! Mikasa’s here!”

“Why? Mikasa banged him, too! Maybe I should get a trophy for _not_ sleeping with Jean!”

“Shut up!” But Armin wasn’t just telling me to be quiet because I was being annoying. He was _upset_ with me. His eyes looked different and he was more pointed in the way he ordered me. My shoulders slumped a little. That was unexpected. “Shut up, okay? You’ve been talking like Jean’s this huge slut and that’s not true! He was drunk, he thought Mikasa was pretty, and she wanted to fool around so that’s why that happened! He wasn’t dating anyone but he didn’t really _want_ to. He was hanging out with us because all his old friends knew him through Marco! He needed a distraction! It’s been _hard_ for him, and he’d only been with Marco before, so—“

Armin trailed off when he saw my face start to acquiesce. I rarely looked abject, so he read my apology without needing to hear it. “Then he met me. He said he liked me better at the start, but it’s a lot harder to approach boys. You know… when you don’t know.”

“I’ll bet.”

I still couldn’t help feeling little to no sympathy for Jean, but Armin inspired far more convincing emotions in my heart. I felt bad, but I wouldn’t budge in my stubbornness long enough to let him know. “So… I mean… my question still stands. Did you do it?”

Armin’s lips twitched up ever-so-slightly and I saw him gulp. “Not everything. Like, I’m not ready for that yet. But, um…”

“Ooooo, someone got a b.j., sounds like.”

Armin’s face got redder by degrees, but instead of looking mortified he actually smiled, finally hiding his face when he broke out into a grin. “Eren!”

Jealousy made me tease him further. “Ha! I’ll bet you didn’t last ten seconds when that happened.”

He closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip for a moment. “Shut up! It was, like, my first time ever doing that!”

“I was kidding.”

He grabbed the same pillow I’d been using to suffocate myself, and fell back on my bed, kicking his legs up excitedly. “Oh my god, it was amazing though! Jesus _Christ,_ I can’t stop remembering it, he’s so hot.”

“Ew! Gross! Stop!”

“No! No, you let me talk about it, and then you teased me, so I’m going to go on about my hot not-boyfriend who sucked my dick!”

“Armin, ugh!”     

“I don’t even know, he’s just so… _physical._ We make out a _lot._ Like, I have a feeling if we go out tomorrow night I’m gonna go down on him.”

It was weird, to suddenly have the roles reversed in my head. Armin _receiving_ such attention, now that was just funny and sort of uncomfortable, not something I wanted to think about in detail but something I was almost proud of him for. A milestone (I tried to not think of how far I was from the same milestone). But then, thinking of Armin returning the favor… my brain snapped into a more protective mode. A much more traditional mode.

“Oh, god,” I whispered. “You’d do that?”

“Eren…” He started warningly.

“This isn’t about him! Just, in general. You’d suck a dick?”

He raised a hand and wiggled his fingers, as if noting his presence in the room. “Gay.”

I rolled my eyes, and filed away the fact that I was proud of him for finally proclaiming it without hesitation. “I _know_ , but… that just seems so gross.”

“Well, you’d better get over that feeling if you ever expect someone to do it for you.”

“That’s different!”

“How?”

I wasn’t used to being pinned down in arguments with Armin. True, he often talked circles around me, but not like this. When I couldn’t react, and only stuttered a few times, he lifted one eyebrow as if to declare his victory and gave a small “hm!” before sitting back up, pillow still clutched in his arms.   

I changed the subject, pointing at him. “You’d better not have a boner right now under that pillow.”

“No, I’m just being cute!” He snapped. “God! Fine, if you’re gonna be like that I’ll tell you I already gave him a hand job.”

“You _what?_ ”

“Are we in 7th grade still? Did you miss the part where we’re 16 years old and supposed to be getting on with it?”

“Yeah but you’re… Armin.”

“Yes I am! And I gave Jean a hand job on Tuesday night after we went to see Forrest Gump. I am apparently good at it, too. And next time you see him you’re gonna have to think about that. I’ve officially gotten more action than you have.”

Okay, that stung. I grabbed another pillow from the corner of the bed and clocked him with it. “So that’s why you didn’t call me after you got out of the movie.” I quickly leaned over the same pillow, mimicking his supposedly “cute” posture. Armin just laughed.

I begged him to get back to my Chemistry homework, at least for the time being. “Fine, you did it. Congratulations, you win.”

Armin stuck his tongue out and grinned, and made a smooth transition back to talking about my fundamental misunderstanding about noble elements. He seemed so much lighter for the talk, as quick as it had come and gone. Being his friend, his _best_ friend, was going to become more trying for my sanity, I could tell.

Especially since _I_ was the one unexpectedly sporting a boner beneath the pillow, hoping Chemistry would distract it into non-existence.

I coasted through the next day and probably made a solid C on my Chemistry test (which was better than I could have hoped for if Armin hadn’t intervened). Trying to seem innocuous, I asked Armin in the parking lot if he planned on going out that night.

“Yes,” he explained with a shit-eating grin, knowing where my brain was.

“Okay, well, _good luck_ with your plans.” I rolled my eyes and picked up the pace to catch up with Mikasa.

“Thank you! I’ll tell you all about it!” He called after me. Bastard. I didn’t want to turn around, knowing that any moment Jean would show up, and who knows how awkward the resulting interaction would be.

“Do you want to get donuts on the way home?” Mikasa asked.

I glared at her. She’d noticed the way my frequent snack breaks had dropped off. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. I want a donut suddenly. Maybe a hot chocolate, too.”

“It’s like 100 degrees.”

She sighed. “It’s in the mid-70’s, Eren. We’re going to get donuts. And that place makes the best hot chocolate. God, you’re a brat.”

“You know, you’re only a year older than me.”

“Girls mature faster than boys.”

“Is that why you act like my mom?”

She leaned over and actually smacked the back of my head. “Don’t even say something like that, you know how I feel about that. Fine, I was going to be nice and buy you some food. Now you can pay for yourself. Fucking brat.”

She was pissed. I waited until we parked before I let out the frustrated sigh I was holding, and we walked up to the order window in tandem.

Levi regarded me first, and then glanced at Mikasa. He did a double take, and then looked back at me with a look so sharp it could cut glass. _What?!_ I wanted to say immediately.

“Mikasa, you don’t choose your company well.”

“You work here?” She asked Levi, her voice actually rising above the usual flat tone of ennui.

“Since last week. It’s sort of to keep me in check.”

“Yeah, you’re only there on weekends now, right?”

“Friday and Saturday nights. I’m trying to just do shows. Laying off the other shit. Productive member of society and everything. Why are you hanging out with this brat?”

“Yeah! I just called him a brat, actually! Is he a little shithead when he comes down here, too?”

“Always.”

Her tone softened. “He’s my step-brother, and he’s a pain in the ass but I love him.”

I felt like falling into a hole and calling it a life as Levi fastened his eyes on me for a particularly condescending glare. “You’re a patient soul, Mikasa.”

She laughed, which was a very strange sound coming from her in this particular instance. I actually turned to her in shock, and tried to gauge whether she was _flirting_ with Levi. “You look so different in the daylight.”

“Yeah, dual identities. It’s a living. So are we hungry, or what?”

I couldn’t think clearly, and ate simply because food was put in front of me (Mikasa still paid). Levi lamented not being able to join us (and by us, he meant Mikasa) for the meal, so we finished up quickly and made it to the car. “See you soon?” Levi called after Mikasa.

“Yeah, maybe tomorrow, if I can break away from home!” She replied, waving goodbye.

Once we were in the car with the doors firmly closed, she turned to me and went as somber as I’d ever seen or heard her be. “Okay, I swear to god, you cannot even mention that I’m only a year older than you if you ever talk to him about me.”

“Why would I talk to him about you? Why would I _talk to him?_ Why are you being weird? Mikasa, what the hell.”

She sighed and a look of guilt crossed her face. “I sort of… I sort of started to get into the bar where he works, and they didn’t ID me, so now everyone there thinks I’m 21. I really like going there. Don’t narc on me.”

I blinked quick and hard, crying out in shock as she pulled out of the parking lot. “You’re sneaking into bars?!”

“Just one! Just because I wanted to see the show! But then it wound up being a really fun place. Oh my god, Eren, don’t be a shitstain, I could get banned for ten years if they find out.”

“What sort of _show?_ ” I asked gravely.

“Drag show,” she answered very quickly, like maybe if she said it fast enough I wouldn’t hassle her nor mention it again.

“What’s a drag show?” I asked, somehow knowing I was about to feel very stupid.

“Are you _absolutely serious_?” She cried out, slapping the steering wheel delightedly. I normally liked hearing Mikasa laugh, but this time it was different. “A drag show, Eren.”

“Saying it slower and louder won’t change the fact that I don’t know what you mean.”

“A drag show. Drag as in, drag queens. As in, men who dress up and impersonate women.”

“What?” It still took me a few moments. “Oh, you mean like RuPaul?”

She chuckled as we turned into our mostly sand-covered driveway. ”Yeah, pretty much.”

“God, you pick the weirdest stuff to get into. I can’t…” I trailed off, and Mikasa stayed in the car with the keys in her hand, staring at me like she expected me to get it at any moment. Slowly, the pieces connected. My face screwed up. “Wait, he’s a _drag queen_?”

Mikasa just threw her head back and laughed all the way up the walk and into our house.    


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically just dialogue, because I am having a ball writing the dialogue for this story. Also, I've noticed many more readers! That makes me very happy! Your comments make me happy! I'm generally a happy person.
> 
> P.S. Siouxsie Sioux is a goddess and you should totally look her up if you never have.

So, according to Armin, whom I let go on about it just because I needed more help with my homework, blowjobs were scary things. “It’s ridiculous, not knowing what to do. Like, there it is, it’s literally right there, and I knew what I wanted to do, but then I wasn’t sure how to move or how to breathe, whether to use my hands or not… I thought I embarrassed myself, honestly.”

I guess I was trying to be a better friend, too. I’d worked myself up to a cringing detachment. “Did he… you know? Finish?”

“Uh, _yes.”_ He shot me a look like I was the asshole for even suggesting the alternative. “I’m not inept, Eren. But it was weird.”

“I mean, he knows you’re a virgin though. Of course you were going to be nervous.”

Armin shrugged at my consolation attempt and continued to stew in his own memories. “I thought I was doing okay but then I tried to go too far and gagged, and I sort of lost my concentration from there. He said it was okay, and at least he didn’t laugh at me, but…”

I closed my eyes tightly and tried to think of anything else but Armin gagging on Jean’s dick. “Oh, god.”

“He’s bigger than he seemed when I was jerking him off. Like, a dick suddenly seems _a lot_ bigger when it’s in your mouth.”

“Stop.”

“Oh, shit, what if he expects me to bottom?”

“Armin.”

“I’m not letting that thing near my ass!”

“ _Armin._ ”

“Eren, I have no idea how anal sex works,” Armin admitted with what seemed to be horror in his tone. At least he was finally paying attention to me.

“So?!”

“Like, what am I supposed to do? I can’t just go find a book about that!”

“Ask your boyfriend, apparently he’s been there, done that!”

Armin went silent, and little by little his tension ebbed. His face also fell, and he looked down at the textbook in his lap. I realized what I’d done, how I’d sounded.

“Armin, I’m sorry.”

“No… no, it’s okay. You’re right, I’ll just ask him. Let’s, uhh… let’s look at this work, all right?”

“Armin…” I sighed, knowing that even for how sorry I felt, I still sounded defeated by the fact. I reached out to touch his shoulder but he rolled my hand off.

“It’s okay. You’ve already listened to me enough. I don’t want to totally trip you out. I just don’t want to seem stupid when the time comes.”

The study session went on awkwardly until Armin had to go home to cook supper. Telling myself that my courage was back, I took my awkward thoughts on a walk and headed for the end of the street. Levi was smoking behind the donut shop when I walked into the parking lot. He didn’t regard me, exactly; not when he saw me approaching and not when I came right up to the wall and leaned against it next to him. I focused on the top of the tree line behind the building.

“How does anal sex work?” I asked gently, shoring up all of my humility.

Levi flicked his cigarette at the ground and I heard him exhale loudly. “Bye,” he said, and started to turn away from me.

“Wait! Wait, seriously, don’t go. I’m not trying to be a smartass.” I turned on the most pitiful expression I could muster,

“What are you, family? You don’t strike me as the type.”

“Family?” I narrowed my eyes.

He rolled his. “Are you gay? Oh, god, why am I even asking?”

“It’s my friend.” I offered neither direct confirmation nor denial regarding myself. Constantly hearing talk about Jean Kirschtein’s cock wasn’t doing me any favors as far as figuring it out.

“Okay. Your friend. Yeah, sure, okay.” He snorted a subtle laugh and made for the back entrance to the shop again, so I just raised my voice.

“I’m not lying! I just. I want to know.”

Levi grabbed at the back of his neck and turned on heel, making a show out of being annoyed by my persistence. “I don’t know! I’ve been taking it up the ass since I was 13, you think I knew the mechanics before I bent over for my first daddy? I’m sure as hell not keeping track now. Shit, sometimes I just bite the pillow and pray for a miracle.”

I knew what he was saying, basically, but in the simplest sense much of it still sounded like code. All I could focus on, though, was, “13?”

He checked his watch. When he replied, he sounded colder than he had moments before. “Yeah, I started early. I’m not proud of that or anything. I was stupid.”

“So um… did it hurt?”

As I looked elsewhere, hoping my question hadn’t sounded too stupid, I heard Levi grumble. Though I didn’t want to look right at him, I caught sight of him for a moment when he rubbed his temples. “Jesus Fucking Christ… Yes! Have you considered your asshole lately? You’re trying to put a banana in a buttonhole, it was awful! And I’m a size queen, trust me, it’s a hard life.”

I hadn’t considered my asshole lately, so I squirmed when he put it that way.  “Why the hell would you keep doing it?”

“Well, you see, It’s a cult. Millions of gay men have been perpetuating the myth of gay sex just to lure in the naïve.” He paused. He sighed when I didn’t react to his sarcasm. “It gets better. It feels amazing but you have to be ready for it. There’s even a built-in make-you-scream button – in a good way – but you’ve gotta work for it. It’s not like fucking girls who get all Mississippi River down there if you do a little finger work, you have to bring in some help.” He paused again. “Are you really asking for a friend?”

“Are you really a drag queen?”

“Why do you always counter questions with questions? Especially when you don’t want to answer them?”

“Mikasa told me.”

“What, that you want the high hard one up your poop chute?”

“Okay, gross. No, she told me you’re a drag queen.”

He lifted his hands, mocking me. “Guilty as charged.”

I tried to hide how flummoxed I was. He just didn’t look it. Not at all. The black hair, the black clothes, the pale skin, looking like he’d just stumbled (pranced?) out of a Nine Inch Nails concert… nothing about Levi seemed to lend itself to the sequins and flamboyance I only vaguely knew to be associated with female impersonators. Sure, he wasn’t bad to look at. All told his proportions were nice and his face, despite the sleepy, beady eyes, was flawless. I reminded myself that I had no idea what to look for, though. Of course he wasn’t going to look exactly like a woman already. “I’ve never met a drag queen before.”

“From the way you were talking earlier, it seems you’ve never met a homosexual either.” He put a purposeful lisp on the word ‘homosexual’, and when I glanced over he was smirking at me.

I tried to make it obvious that I was surrendering with my next sigh. “Actually, my best friend really _is_ gay. He’s just new to the whole thing, so he’s panicking about a lot of stuff he’s never dealt with before. And of course, he’s panicking to me.”

“What sort of stuff? Anal sex, obviously, but that’s quite a leap if he’s new to the whole thing. My first bit of advice would be, don’t start there.”

“He gave his first blowjob the other night, so there’s that.”

“Really?” He looked almost _wistful_. “Oh, wow. That’s adorable. Okay, I say that, but what I’ve got in my mind are two cute little teenage boys fooling around after school. I’m not imagining my own experiences. Those were hardly adorable.”

“No, you had it right the first time.” _Jean Kirschtein’s fucking horse face notwithstanding._

“Adorable.”

I was thinking about it again. Even if it was Armin, even if I was supposed to be on the lookout for some girl to woo before December, there was no stopping the flood of considerations taking over my mind. I’d popped enough awkward boners already with that on my mind. I certainly didn’t want to keep it up in front of Levi (literally). “Um, I’m curious now. What do you look like as a woman?”

“I thought you wanted me to explain anal sex. I’m already late from my break.”

“Um…” I shuffled my feet and tried to stay cool. “Well, I’m not doing anything tomorrow night. Do you work?”

He lifted an eyebrow; suspiciously, severely. “Yeah, I’ll be here until the usual.”

“And your other job?”

“Not tomorrow night,” he said it quickly and launched right into an interrogation. “You really want to talk tomorrow after I get off work? Sure you don’t want to send your friend to learn about the birds and the bees? Or should I say the bees and the bees?”

“No, I think he’d have a cow if he knew I was even asking on his behalf.”

“So he thinks you’re straight?”

The inference wasn’t completely unexpected, but it still made me bury my face in my hands for a second. “That’s not the point! He’s… he’s embarrassed.”

“Yeah, and you seem totally casual about it.”

“Levi!” Was all I could muster, begging him with a whine to take things seriously.

“Yeah, that’s right. Say my name.” He pursed his lips quickly at me and opened the door before I could protest or even react. “Be here tomorrow night. I’m not going to give you another chance!”

For three hours the next evening I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling while my favorite Pearl Jam album played and repeated nearly four times on the stereo. Finally I got up in the middle of “Dissident” and turned the music off, letting silence take over, trying to decide whether I wanted to make my homework an excuse for not showing up, or finish it all frantically before class the next morning.

Mikasa knocked on the door of my bedroom. At least, I could only assume it was Mikasa. She always knocked the same way. “What?”

She was wearing a black and white babydoll dress and a pair of high heels. Obviously she was dressed up for something. Mikasa normally didn’t wear makeup, so the lipstick stood out against her pale features. “Do you need the car? I’m going out,” she informed me.

“Going to go sneak into a bar?” I sneered.

“Maybe! Maybe I am. Or maybe I have a date. You don’t know and I’m not going to tell you.”

“You’re not going on a date at 8:30 on a Sunday. Besides, wouldn’t he be picking you up?”

“Maybe it’s a date with a girl. Maybe I don’t conform to standard gender roles. Or maybe I’m sneaking into a bar.”

“Whatever.” I fell back onto the bed. “No, I don’t need the car.”

“Cool. Have a good night. If you decide to jerk off in the living room make sure you throw things away afterward this time.”

“What?” I sat straight up again.

She left without another word, and I felt my soul slip away from my body, curl itself into a tiny, super-dense ball, and bury itself beneath the earth. 

My homework could definitely wait.

A large Styrofoam cup full of Dr. Pepper did little to occupy my time as I waited in the darkness at one of the tables at the donut shop, unsure of what I was even doing there but sure that I didn’t want to be at home when Mikasa returned. Riding to school with her the next day would be mortifying enough. Being 16 was just turning out to be mortifying every step of the way, though.

The lights at the shop went out and I braced myself, told myself to stay cool as I heard Levi’s wallet chain jingling, boots crunching in the gravel as he approached. Before he said anything, a bag landed on the table in front of me. “Leftover crullers. I saved you the two that weren’t dried out and disgusting.”

“Um… thank you.” I almost grabbed for the bag but then realized I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.

“So this place is dreary as fuck, and it looks like we should be doing a drug deal if we stay here. I can see a cop rolling up if we just keep hanging out in this neighborhood after business hours.” I kept my eyes forward but heard him pull out a cigarette and light it. I didn’t know what to say. “Want to drive down to the park or something?”

“The park?” I finally looked over at him. In the low light I could see him flip his bangs and nod. “That’s like ten miles from here.”

“I have a car.” He sighed. “I’m just saying, I don’t really want to get approached by the cops.”

“Why not?” I asked, bristling with suspicion.

“I’m on probation, dingus. Even if I’m not doing anything wrong it’s this whole ordeal. Come on, we’re going to the park.”

He started to walk toward his Camaro. I stayed behind, though I did stand up. “You’ve been _arrested?_ ” I nearly shrieked. I certainly didn’t feel like getting in the car with him at that point.

“Yes,” he answered plainly. “Booked for drugs when I was your age, but most recently it was something else.”

“Something else?” His tone didn’t inspire confidence. 

“Assault,” he said quickly. He knew that an explanation was in order, and he stepped closer to give it. “It’s a long story. I was defending myself. Things were complicated. The charges were dressed up to keep me from going to jail for prostitution. So, simply put, you’re not in danger unless you’re either planning on knifing me or you have the money to pay.”  

“So why would you be paranoid about the cops?”

He turned to me sharply, but noticed that I’d followed him by one step. “Why would you ever _not_ be paranoid about the cops? The police are the reason I’m fucked up. They don’t protect shit unless you look and act the part. Try being gay and poor in this city for about a week and see how far you get.”

“But you were—“

He met my stride and stuck a finger in my face. “Have I told you lately about not knowing what you’re talking about? You don’t know shit about what you’re talking about. So shut it now. Shut it right now.”

He was abrasive, he was mysterious, he was a criminal, and he couldn’t care less whether I came along or not. But he was being something that I valued far more than I worried about those other things: honest. Ever since I was little, I’d simply _known_ when people were lying. It’s why I was so bad at it, myself. “I’m sorry,” I finally said, after calming myself out of the knee-jerk requirement to be a smartass brat.

“Cool. You joining me, then?”

His car was immaculate. I’d expected something close to the way Mikasa and I treated her Buick, which was presently full of empty drink cups and discarded food wrappers, probably a few things my dad needed to sign from the school. But the interior of Levi’s Camaro was spotless. For a moment I wasn’t sure how to act when I wasn’t shifting clutter and garbage aside just to find a comfortable seat.

I held the bag of donuts in my lap, and as soon as he closed the door (tossing his cigarette aside as he did), the first thing Levi said was, “No eating in the car, by the way.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“That’s very good.”

Music came on at full blast as soon as he turned the key in the ignition, but he was quick to reach in and lower the volume. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said, sitting very still, listening to place the music. I recognized it being by Depeche Mode, but I had no idea what the name of the song was. “I know this band.”

“Depeche Mode is one of my favorite bands.” He waited for a car to pass and turned into the road heading east out of the neighborhood. “So don’t talk any shit.”

“I just said I knew them,” I said gloomily. “I never heard much besides what’s on the radio.” We were quiet and I wondered if I would need to initiate the important conversation. Of course, I didn’t initiate it. “So what other music do you listen to?”

“The Smiths, The Pixies, Siouxsie Sioux, Oingo Boingo. I’m actually working on my Siouxsie Sioux right now. I’ll probably premiere that next week. I hope.”

“What?”

“Oh.” He realized I didn’t know what he meant. “Um, drag queens. When we do shows, we lipsync and perform, usually to famous singers. I’ve been doing Madonna for a while, but I’m not a huge Madonna fan, so I’m trying to work on something I want to do. I just finished sewing the dress from “Kiss Them For Me”, so now all I have to do is get the hair right.” He paused and glanced at me. “You have no idea what to even visualize, do you?”

“No…”

“I have the tape, actually. I’ve been practicing in the car.”

With one hand he reached over and expertly shuffled through the tapes in his center console, finding one without even looking at it and switching it with Depeche Mode. I didn’t interrupt as the song started. I recognized it, though. I’d heard it on the radio. Not like I was going to tell Levi that.    

When we reached the park, we still hadn’t spoken beyond that. I fidgeted with the bag but didn’t want to make too much noise. Levi noted my nervousness as we came to a stop in the parking lot. “Are you freaked out by me?” He asked.

“No!” I answered immediately, but the way he tilted his head at me indicated how clearly he saw through that ruse. “I mean… maybe a little. You’re really… you know…”

“I’m intimidating. So I’ve been told by many before you. I can’t really help it. But you, you came on like a hurricane when I first met you, and suddenly you’ve turned into a little pansy. What’s the deal?” He poked me in the arm. I rubbed the spot and glared at him.

“I’m just weirded out, is all.”

“I’m flattered.” He chuckled but stopped just as quickly. “No really, is it because of the arrested thing?”

“I guess it is.”

“I’ll tell you all about it when I’m ready. It’s really not as bad as it sounds. I did things wrong only in the most technical sense, unless you’re a fucking puritan. Like I said, it’s complicated. So if I promise to tell you, sometime, do you promise to unclench your ass around me?”

I almost smiled. He may have been crude, but he was actually pretty funny. Being how I was, though, I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. “Yeah.”

“Shake on it.” He held out a hand. His nails were still painted. I sighed deeply and looked at it.

“Wow. This isn’t foreplay, kid, it’s just a handshake.”

I curled my lip and finally shook Levi’s hand while he scoffed at me. “You are so uptight. I’m curious, have you ever even kissed anyone before?”

“Kissed? Yes! Yes, of course I’ve kissed plenty of—“ _don’t say boys don’t say boys don’t say boys_ “—people!”

I’d never kissed anyone.

“So kissing is no big deal, right?”

“Hell no! You know, making out at parties and stuff. No big deal at all!”

I stared at him, horrified that he was seeing right through me like he tended to do. Levi blinked twice. “Let’s make out, then.”

“Eh? Right here?” It was just as I’d feared.

“Well it’s _no big deal,_ right? I’m bored, we’re not talking about anything, let’s make out.”

“Like, at parties and stuff! Or alone!” While I proceeded to freak out, I noticed his mouth quiver slightly. I felt quite clearly, suddenly, that he was screwing around with me. Calling my bluff, that’s all he was doing. Testing the limits of my naivete.  

“Oh? So you’d rather I meet you somewhere later? We can make out then?”

I was determined to show him that I saw through his little game, and leaned closer to sass back in his face. “You’re supposed to be telling me things! Educating me! Besides, I’m not…”

“What? You’re not gay? How can you tell, because of how many girls you’ve fucked? Please. Look at me and tell me you haven’t been thinking about how pretty I am, and guess what, I’m very much a man, just like you.”

I looked at him.

“Just say it, Eren. Contentious little son a bitch you are, it shouldn’t be any problem to just deny something, unless it’s something important.”

I was silent, my face getting colder and angrier.

Levi leaned forward and pushed one long-fingered hand up through my hair. “Ding-dong, you like schlong,” he sang at me.

I punched him in the arm. He only flinched from surprise, and rubbed the spot with a sneer on his face. “Don’t call me a son of a bitch,” I muttered.

He was silent for a beat before saying “I’m sorry.” It sounded sincere enough. Then, as he draped one arm over the steering wheel and looked out at the park lit by street lamps, he sighed. “You know what, fuck the park. It’s what, 9:30? There’s somewhere better we can go.”

“What?”

“Baptism of fire, Eren. Baptism of fire.”

I gulped audibly, terrified of what he might be planning as he threw the car into reverse, singing along to Siouxsie Sioux in a joyfully wobbly tenor.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoomp, there it is.
> 
> Heeeey so this fic got much more popular than I expected in less than a day. I hope everyone's doing well, and I hope you enjoy this next installment. Now comes the part where I get ridiculously nervous about the whole thing, hoping I don't misstep even though the fic is very plotted in my mind already. I just hope no one is let down on a shipper level -- on any shipper level, which is part of me being ridiculous. But at the same time, welcome to the story, it's weird in here??? I don't know guys, just sit back and enjoy the ride. 
> 
> Levi's dressed like dominatrix!Madonna and Hanji's in this chapter, I really don't know how I can't just put my hands up like I'm riding a rollercoaster and shout "HAPPY HUMP DAY!!!" 
> 
> HAPPY HUMP DAY!!!

Years later, I was sure, someone would ask me “Eren, what about the first time you went to a gay bar?” Well, funny you should ask, because I didn’t _go_ so much as I was driven against my will and without prior knowledge to the parking lot outside of my first gay bar. The sign was rather ubiquitous, simply proclaiming “BAR” in blinking red letters with an arrow that pointed to the (also red) door. I shot Levi a desperate look when we parked, but he had already stopped the engine and was leaving the car.

“Uh, hello? I can’t get in. I’m only 16, remember?”

“No, you can get in. I’ll get you in. Hanji’s working the door, and you’re with me.”

“I think my step-sister might be here. What if she’s here?”

“Oh, come on,” Levi held the door open with one foot still inside the car, and leaned in to eye me. He’d just gotten his hair trimmed, I noticed, before I told myself to stop looking so closely at his neck.  “She’s underage, too.”

“What? You knew?”

He didn’t really dignify my shock with a response. “If this place ever got busted there would be a lot more to worry about than underage patrons, _trust_ me. Come on, get up. Off your cute little ass, get up.”

I used the darkness as a cover for the fact that he made me blush with that particular remark. I _hated_ that he could do that to me.

There was a name in hand-painted script on the door, almost chipped away to leave a dull sheen of black. It came into sharper focus the closer we got. THE BENT DUCAT.

“What’s a ducat?” I asked as Levi opened the door ahead of me. The smell of smoke and sweat and alcohol hit me immediately, and I couldn’t help leaning into it.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Levi answered, but I didn’t have time to check on how sarcastic he was being. I was too distracted by the figure suddenly blocking our path, rushing toward us, and yelling all at once.

“What the hell are you doing here on a Sunday?” It was a joyous sort of interrogation, but it still scared the piss out of me.

I stopped in my tracks and actually took a step back, but it was too late. I was just in time, in the perfect place, to be caught between Levi and what I could only perceive to be an incoming hug monster. This hug monster, however, had tits. They were small, but keep in mind that I could only tell because I felt them very clearly in my face. All over my face.

“Hanji. Hanji, you’re going to smother the boy. Hanji, please.”

Hanji (I assumed) drew back and looked down at me. “You brought a friend?” It was said with such a velvet lilt that I didn’t even have to wonder about the innuendo.

“Not like that!” Levi’s fingers clutched my shoulders as if to push me forward in offering. My heart began to beat in time with the loud dance music pouring through from the interior. “This is Eren. Eren is a friend of mine. _Not_ that kind of friend, Hanji. Stop giving me that look.”

Hanji’s look seemed to be somewhere between jealousy and morbid curiosity. “Uh-huuuuhhhh…”

I heard Levi snort derisively next to my ear. “Please, you think I’d be running down a shrimp like this with my options?”

“Options. What are you doing about those? Anyway, I’m not one to rag on you about your love life.”

“But you still do,” Levi groused. “Seriously, he’s just a friend.”

Hanji flipped the end of a ponytail over one shoulder, smirked, and bent down to look me in the eye. “Pleased to meet you, Eren!”    

“This is Hanji,” Levi explained. “Hanji’s been my best friend since I quit school. I’d probably have settled down to a deep, fulfilling, and boring life with Hanji by now if she hadn’t decided to become a woman.”

I was slightly confused, but Hanji’s laughing face was doing a good job of putting me at ease (to an extent. I was still in Levi’s talons, after all). She shook my hand and I’m sure my face blanched at the strength of her grip. “Hiiiii.”

“Hey,” I tried not to be nervous. “What’s up?”

“Not the most important thing, anymore,” Levi mumbled as he breezed past with a sigh. Hanji smacked him on the back.

“I heard that!” She turned to me for some (much needed) clarification. “It took five years but I finally went through my reassignment surgery in March. He’s been a total bitch ever since, like he has enough of a dick to talk.”

My eyes searched out Levi, who started in on Hanji with a strong, “Bitch, please…” before he noticed my face. I was still pleading silently. He reached over and grabbed my hand. I lost my footing when he yanked me forward. “Baby’s first gay bar. Let’s do this.” I stumbled right into him.

Hanji, I was starting to realize, had exceptional hearing. “Awww, you little cutie!” She ruffled my hair as she passed. “Sorry to throw my freak in your face, first thing.”

I was trying to reconcile the fact that I was staring at her ass, rather transfixed, when Levi’s voice dropped an octave and he chuntered in a way I hadn’t yet heard. “Shit.”

“What?”

His hand tightened on mine, which was just as well because I still felt like a three year old being shown around the new preschool. He leaned closer to whisper, “He’s here.”

Seeing him flustered was unexpected, but hearing it in his voice actually made a nervous ball form in my throat. “Who?” I managed to ask.

“Your fucking Vice Principal.” He turned completely toward me, mumbling and looking everywhere else the way people do when they don’t want to seem suspicious (which looks even more suspicious, but maybe that was just me). “He’s sitting at the bar.”

I already didn’t really want to look, but it was hard to deny that he stood out. Vice Principal Erwin Smith, out of his suit and tie and obviously making Levi a nervous wreck.

“Wow,” I had to use my moment of power where I found it. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

 _What the hell is that tone of voice, Jaeger? Are you jealous?_ It was almost like Levi said it, in my head, until I realized I’d been thinking it for myself. I tugged at my hand until I’d freed it from Levi’s. He was (much to my delight) fumbling with his words. “It’s a long… you don’t… I can’t… you don’t get it, kid!”

“Oh, no, I think I get it.” I decided to try my hand at the sort of cruel teasing he made seem so easy.

It didn’t work. Levi twisted his face close to mine and growled. “Let’s find a seat and hope he doesn’t think I’m fucking a child.”   

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” We were joined by Hanji, who slipped her hand around Levi’s shoulder to rejoin our conversation already in progress. I had the same ability with Armin, sometimes, to just know what was being said even if I’d missed half of the events as they unfolded. “He’s been here for about an hour.”

Levi turned to her expectantly. I was made only slightly uncomfortable by the kismet they exhibited in their silence.

“I’ll take him off your hands if you want to go and say hello,” she offered. She was talking about me.

Oh, so I was something to be taken off of his hands, was I? My expression mirrored the sour feeling that ran through me, but it was hard to keep it up as Hanji winked at me behind her glasses. Then I remembered I’d been the one wrenching away from his hand in the first place.

“Yeah…” Levi’s voice trailed as if in a trance, and he wandered off.

“Wow,” I assessed the situation simply.

“He’s got it bad,” Hanji added. “Let’s go sit down!”

She guided me in the opposite direction, to a cluster of tables in front of an empty stage. We wove between occupied seats and she plopped down into a chair. No doubt, she read the expression on my face as I joined her at the table. “Oh, no, kid, you don’t want to go down that road.”

“What?” I tensed up and tried to act like I was clueless, and not already firing on all pistons of fabricating some defense.

“Levi’s a mess. You don’t want in on that game, especially not at your age.”

“I don’t like him!” I said, closing my eyes tightly. “I promise, that’s not it! I don’t even… I don’t even know why I’m here!” Wasn’t it _illegal,_ what she was suggesting?

Another, slightly slower, song began to play on the sound system. I glanced over at the people dancing a few feet away, the men sitting close at their tables, the girls smiling flirtatiously as one another. I was just supposed to help Armin… right?

“Ah,” Hanji played with her hair, twirling one strand around her finger compulsively. “That I do understand. Levi likes taking young gays under his wing, like he doesn’t have enough of his own shit to handle as it is.”

“I’m not—“ I was getting sick of defending myself, and gave it up when Levi appeared at our table, seemingly short of breath.

“I’m going on,” he informed both of us at once, but neither of us directly. “I told him I’d go on. Hanji, do you really mind keeping Eren company? I’ll take like thirty minutes to get ready, tops.”

“I’m not the one to worry about. I practically live here,” she responded, fixing Levi with a chastising look. I was glad _someone_ saw that he was being unfair.

“You don’t mind, do you?” He asked me. I hadn’t expected him to sound so… _dark_ about it. There was no arguing that tone, if I wanted to keep my nose in one piece.

“Uh, nope. That’s fine, you go on!” I lifted my hands in the sort of surrender that’s just insincere enough to seem innocuous. Levi didn’t have time to call my bluff this time, so he just took it.

He was already reaching up to remove the spiked collar from around his neck. “Damn right you don’t mind.”

“What song?” Hanji asked.

Levi sucked in a bracing breath and scanned the room as if he expected ninjas to swoop in and interrupt. “My Siouxsie’s not ready yet, and besides, it’s him, so… ‘Erotica’.”

Hanji opened her mouth on an unspoken word and her eyebrows shot up. She was somewhere between shocked and delighted by the news. “Shit, I didn’t bring a change of panties.”

“At least I can do the makeup in like ten seconds now. You don’t wear panties.” Levi sighed and started to step away. At the last moment, he remembered himself and leaned closer to me. I felt his personality return to normal for those moments as his lips pressed close to my ear, fingers clutching my shoulder tightly. He smelled like cloves and smoke. “You’re going to get one of your questions answered, at least.”

Ah, yes, there is was. My first awkward boner of the evening. I shut my eyes tightly and tried to think of Jean Kirschtein just to will it away. It wasn’t working. That just made me think of blowjobs. Rushing for a cover, I went to Levi again. I thought of the strangely arousing, terrible ways he’d described certain things. For some reason my dick just got harder at that. I prayed for a distraction.

“So how old _are_ you?” Hanji asked me.

A drink had spontaneously appeared in front of her. Levi was gone.

“16,” I answered, trying to be quiet about it.

Her palms hit the table but she maintained some merciful decorum. “Jesus, Levi, start ‘em early, why don’t you…?” She glanced in what I could only assume was the direction he’d disappeared. “That means you’re in high school.”

I nodded.

“That means you’re in _his_ high school.”

No need to clarify what we were both well aware of. “Listen, all I know about the Vice Principal is his name and the fact that he and Levi apparently... you know… did it.”

I knew I sounded naïve. Thankfully, Hanji didn’t draw attention to this. “You say that like it was only once.”

“I have definitely not asked for details.”

She was sharp. Her eyes narrowed by a single degree and her pretty lips twisted very subtly. “But you want them.”

“Heeeeeyyy…” I leaned back in my chair, holding up my palms haltingly.

“Well, I’ll tell you this: I’ve known Levi for most of my life. I’ve known him as a gay man and now I’ve known him as a woman. I know him better than most. And let me tell you, he’s not acting the way he usually acts when he just wants to get on someone’s dick.” She just went _into_ it, so fluidly, so casually. “Simply put, he gossips like a queen. I know everything whether I want to or not. He’d give me a detailed report even if he fucked my dad, I’m pretty sure. But this whole situation has been the Levi version of a media blackout.”  

I tried not to say it. I didn’t want to say it. “Do you think it’s serious?”

She half-rolled her eyes. “I don’t even know. Let’s just hope that your Vice Principal doesn’t recognize you and go heading for the hills before Levi gets his chance, that’s all.”

I could only imagine the sort of ass-kicking I’d get from Levi if that happened, no matter how strongly I reminded him that _he’d_ dragged me here.

Approximately thirty minutes passed in conversation. Hanji asked me if I wanted to dance to kill time. I just laughed, perhaps too brightly, at the thought. I was doomed, it seemed, to spend most of the night at half-mast. Dancing would have been out of the question even without that detail, of course.

At least Mikasa wasn’t around, I reminded myself with no small amount of relief. My mind wandered only momentarily to what she might be doing instead, before the lights on the stage suddenly flickered on. It was an inexpensive lighting set-up, obviously old, but it did the job. A murmur went through the place. Hanji’s eyes scanned the area critically as I heard people start moving in to fill the seats surrounding the stage. “Good,” she said, just _sotto_ enough that she seemed inconspicuous. “He’s sitting on the other side of the stage. Just stay close to me and he shouldn’t see us through the rest of the crowd.”

The strategic plan was enough to keep me thinking until a voice came over the sound system. The MC that appeared on stage was a tall, visibly aging man who gave a short announcement, seemed to tell a few jokes (I couldn’t actually make out much of what was being said), and informed the assembled crowd that there would be a surprise show from…

“ _Tyranny Dazell?_ ” My face contorted as I tried to make sense of the rather stupid name, and turned to Hanji for some confirmation that I’d heard right.

“Tirne des Ailes,” Hanji repeated with a more pronounced French accent. “It’s her name. Levi is so pretentious. ‘des Ailes’ is French for ‘the wings’. He’s got a weird thing for wings. Got a pair tattooed on his back, actually.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t even aware when I filed that detail away for future reference. No surprise, since I had no time to focus on anything but the total stranger who appeared from stage left.

To say it was a complete transformation would be an understatement. To say that I was instantaneously aroused, also an understatement. I recognized the costume from the Madonna video that got banned from primetime TV, which I only saw once when I stayed up with Mikasa until one a.m. watching MTV, hoping to catch it.  

The tight, brushed black leather mini-dress hit the middle of Levi’s thighs and wrapped him in a corset that flared up into a sheer mock suit top complete with collar, cuffs, tie, and tits. He was suddenly blonde. He was suddenly… _female._

“Oh my god,” I breathed, leaning forward slightly.

“Some of it’s padding, but yeah.” Hanji informed me. “Under the baggy t-shirts Levi’s got some killer hips and legs. For a dude especially, but even for a chick they’re pretty bangin’.”

Said legs were wrapped in a pair of ridiculously high-heeled black patent leather boots that tapered just above his knees. I’d barely had time to notice the song, I was so transfixed by the way he was parading around with a slow, deliberate step, pausing every now and then to kneel at the edge of the stage. A couple of paces off from us, he opened his legs at the deepest point of his crouch, and turned to look directly at me.

The bullwhip in his hand suddenly became very apparent as he pointed it right at me to mouth the line “ _put your hands all over my body.”_

“What the fuck happened? How did he--” I asked. My eyes couldn’t help sweeping over his body. His legs were still open where he knelt. I considered myself above judgment for being particularly fascinated by the rather spectacular view of his crotch. “Where did his balls go?” I was genuinely curious, and a little horrified.

Hanji choked on her drink next to me. “Oh, honey.”

With a rustle of movement, she held up a five dollar bill and beckoned Levi with it. I glanced back and forth between them, even as Levi bent down and began to move on his hands and knees toward her. I don’t know that I entirely wanted to, but it felt right to lean back, as far away from the action as I could get.

With a loud “woo!”, Hanji slipped the bill into the top of Levi’s boot. When he turned to move back to his feet, she stood halfway out of her seat and smacked him squarely on the ass. Levi turned around and winked at me – _me._ On purpose. -- with the most confusing smile on his stupidly beautiful face.

My eyes followed his backside as he slowly strutted his way around, away from us, continuing to handle the bullwhip suggestively. I actually had to tear my eyes away.

_No, this is all fake. This is only happening to you because he’s dressed like a girl. He’s doing this on purpose! Eren, snap out of it. Stop looking at his ass. Stop looking at asses in general._

The mantra continued, to varying degrees of self-discipline. I was looking at my hands until Hanji poked me in the arm to make sure I was paying attention to Levi on the other end of the stage. “Here we go, watch this.”

He paused at the very edge of the stage and lowered himself into a sitting position so gracefully that I wondered for a moment whether he’d had dance training. _Probably not, considering what else I know about him._    

 _“I don’t think you know what pain is,”_ Madonna sang and Levi mimicked, and I leaned up a little in my chair as he stepped into the crowd. It hardly took a straight-C student to figure out where he was headed. _“I don’t think you’ve gone that way. I could bring you so much pleasure.”_ I couldn’t see much, but my view was good enough to see Levi lift the bullwhip in both hands and bring it down behind Vice Principal Smith’s head, stepping forward and straddling his lap without losing stride. _“I’ll come to you when you say.”_ The crowd cheered it on and I saw a genuinely devilish smirk on Levi’s painted face. He leaned forward, his lips an inch from Erwin’s (it wasn’t even worth it to think of him as a school administrator anymore, I figured). I actually held my breath and nearly breathed the next line along with him. _“I know you want me.”_

He just _paused_ there, completely still while they stared at one another. There was a weird crackling tension that went through the entire scene for a moment or two. I saw his eyes flick downward. Hanji let out a pointed breath and I turned, stunned back to the reality that there were other people in the room.

“He’s slutting it up more than usual,” she noted quickly, fanning herself.

Levi finally moved back, off of Erwin’s lap and back onto the stage to continue the song to its finish. Hanji seemed to be deducing the situation next to me. “Get comfortable, honey,” she said, reaching around to slap me on the back. “You’re not leaving for a while.”

“Uh…”

I didn’t quite know what she meant, but Hanji leaned close to whisper: “Someone’s getting his ass fucked tonight. You just witnessed a mating dance, my child.”

I couldn’t speak, as much as I wanted to express something close to disgust. I found nothing like that. What I did have to distract me, though, was a bit of anxiety. “I need to get home. What if he leaves?”

The song ended and Levi made the rounds, collecting tips from the crowd that applauded and whooped for his efforts. “He won’t,” Hanji assured me, clapping. “Despite how he acts, Levi takes care of people.”

Booted high heels stopped in front of us and Levi bent down. “Wait for me,” he looked right at me and said. “I’ll take you home.”

I tried not to think about the wording much. Things were too confusing already between my legs. I didn’t need them getting confusing between my ears. And then, as he had the tendency to do, he disappeared.  

I waited, and at some point started to ask Hanji about her favorite TV shows and movies. We wound up talking about Star Trek: The Next Generation until she had to close up the place (she was part owner, it turned out. Otherwise she was on her fifth year of working on a doctoral dissertation that was wrapped up in university politics. I knew more about her in two hours than I’d learned about Levi in a month). I was sitting alone at the table, alone in the otherwise empty bar at nearly 3 a.m., mind still reeling, when Levi re-appeared. The spell had worn off. He looked like a boy again. There were no words as he approached, but I noticed something definitely off-kilter about his expression. He stumbled just a bit before he fell heavily into the chair next to me.

I shot him a sideways glance after he was quiet for several seconds. His pale cheeks had apples of color in them. His eye makeup, though mostly removed, was smudged where it remained. His hair was disheveled. His eyes weren’t as sharp as usual; in fact, he looked blank. Serene, almost.

“I can’t feel my legs,” he finally said in a ragged but triumphant voice.

He was downright chipper when he dropped me off at my house, but I could barely look him in the eye as I said goodnight. I neglected to thank him. I ignored whatever Mikasa had written for me on a note on the dining room table, and locked the door to my room. I pulled the covers up to my nose and tried not to think about anything on the other side of the dawn as I reached beneath them. I was thinking of Levi’s legs in those high heeled boots, spread wide around Erwin’s waist. I thought of him with fake tits and a fantastic ass, but it all got muddled when I realized that I was also thinking of him without makeup, without the blonde wig.     

I was thinking about him getting fucked not as a girl, but as a man; so hard that he couldn’t feel his legs after. I was thinking about his face softening and his mouth opening up, thinking about him losing his composure and screaming, unable to contain his pleasure. I was thinking about that damned song. The images started to flash together a little too quickly to be discerned, but by the time I came with a whine I was definitely thinking about Levi sucking my cock while I looked down at the wings on his back.

“Oh, no,” I whispered into the darkness of my room, slowing my sticky hand until I’d stilled completely. “This is not good. This is really not good.”

I wasn’t referring to suddenly needing a new set of sheets on the bed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it might end up being longer than 7 or 8 chapters.
> 
> You guys have blessed this mess with some interesting questions that I now want to answer, even though for the sake of brevity I may not be going into _everything_. 
> 
> Seriously, though, thanks for blessing this mess. I do try to respond to every comment, I just never expected so many. Therefore, responses may be slightly delayed. Comments give me life, though. 
> 
> And the _fanart_.... *fans self* Are you serious? That's like winning the fanfic Stanley Cup.
> 
> I want to point out that, despite my usual tendency to be overly detailed about things, I did not look up whether the Steelers and the Ravens played each other on a Monday night in 1994. I actually consider this a good sign for my sanity and control issues.

I poured a bowl of Corn Flakes and added two spoonfuls of sugar. As I poured the milk I thought about how I used to get so irritated at Mikasa for pouring her milk first and then adding the cereal, how I just got more and more vocally irritated until mom forced her to start doing it “the right way”.

There wasn’t really a right way, I thought, shoveling the overly-sweet cereal into my mouth hungrily and letting the milk drip down my chin. There wasn’t really a right way to do anything, unless you were taking a chemistry test or explaining quadratic equations. It just mattered where you ended up. I’d always gotten bent out of shape, though, all my life, when people did things differently.

That morning I couldn’t really process the irony of realizing it. I just thought about mom, allowing myself the few minutes I usually did once a month or so to remember her quietly. I was thinking about my ninth birthday party, the first month that Mikasa lived with us, when I noticed that there was a girl in the kitchen.

I stopped the spoon halfway to my mouth and we looked at each other. She was skinny and blonde, just standing there in front of the open fridge in a Pacers throwback jersey and bare feet.  Even more unnerving than her simply _being_ there, she was glaring at me like I was the jerk for wondering how and when she had gotten into my house.

“Good morning,” she said, and it sounded like she put a bratty question mark at the end just to show me how highly she thought of the way I was staring.

 _Not this morning._ I sighed and shook my head, not even bothering to ask who she was or why she was there. “Good morning.”

The light from the fridge washed her already-pale skin out even more; with her long nose and wide-set eyes she reminded me of Uma Thurman. She retrieved a bottle of Gatorade and closed the door, padding back into the hallway while I finally remembered the note Mikasa left for me the previous night. I reached across the table and pulled it over so that I could read.

_ Eren, _

_ I have a friend over, she’s staying the night. Please don’t be weird. _

_ -Mikasa _

Being weird was something I obviously couldn’t avoid, although I was lost in a world of suddenly having some perspective on just how weird things really got.

Mikasa entered the kitchen herself within a few minutes, bringing a bagel over on a paper towel to eat next to me. I let her be quiet until I just couldn’t take it anymore.

“What’s her name?”

Mikasa chewed and looked at me. “Annie,” she answered.

When my face changed, she stopped chewing. “Not in _that_ way, Eren. I can have _friends_ sleep over, too!” She shook her head and reached over me for a spare napkin. “Where were you last night? Who brought you home?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it.” I deposited my bowl in the sink and told her I was going to do some laundry before school, which was my subtle way of telling her to finally get her panties out of the dryer.

“I tried to call you last night,” Armin told me when we met up between classes. “Mikasa said you went somewhere.”

“Yeah.”

“Where did you go?”

I’d have to tell someone, and though I knew I wanted that someone to be Armin, my heart still beat faster as I considered saying it. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.”

“Well, how about we talk after we leave Jean’s? He has two papers to write that he hasn’t even started and I need an excuse to leave him alone for a night.”

“We? Jean’s?” I ignored the implication of what they had been doing with their time.

He blinked at me several times, unimpressed. “We were supposed to go to his house tonight. We talked about it last week.”

“That’s tonight? On a Monday?”

“Yeah. For Monday Night Football. That was the whole point, Eren.” Great, the day wasn’t even three hours old and already I was hearing massive disappointment in Armin’s voice.

“No, I just got confused!” I rubbed my face and growled. “Yeah, that’s cool, you can come over.” 

“Did you do the reading?” We ducked into our English class and let our backpacks drop on the floor. We sat side-by-side, further back in class, and luckily our teacher was cool enough to let us get away with doing so.

My face fell and I closed my eyes slowly when I remembered the fifty pages of Dickens we were supposed to finish over the weekend. “No,” I answered, a man at the gallows like usual.  

“I didn’t either,” Armin admitted with a terrified look. It was like he’d been expecting to mooch off of _my_ expertise, and that was so far from making sense that I wondered if I’d somehow set a chain reaction of bizarro-world events into motion the night before. He leaned forward and got the attention of one of our other classmates. “Reiner, did you do the reading?”

“Halfway.”

“Well,” I tried to look on the bright side. “If you didn’t do it and Reiner didn’t do it, maybe we can get the quiz graded on a curve.”

“I hope so,” Armin grimaced, pulling his Cliff’s Notes out to do some clandestine, desperate cramming. I sighed because I knew it would probably be enough to ensure him a good grade, meaning I would still fail.

The day went along at the same pace, to varying degrees of shittiness. Even in the moments I got to sit and really think about things, I just ended up thinking about Levi, and his stupid face, and the stupid way he whispered in my ear. Nothing was really clear, so I was almost grateful by the time the evening rolled around and I was in the car heading to Jean’s house. Mikasa loved football, but she informed me that she was sitting out the gathering. “It’s boys only,” she said with a sniping tone. “Which is total bullshit, since half of the boys are gay and I know there are a couple of lesbians going.”

“Well, maybe you should just decide whether you’re a lesbian.”

“Well, maybe you should blah blah blah shut up, Eren.”

The Steelers were at Baltimore. I didn’t have a particular investment in either team, regardless of the fact that I didn’t want the Steelers anywhere near my favorites considering how good they’d been in the preseason. I relaxed as well as I could into the big leather couch in Jean’s TV room (and by that, I don’t mean a family TV room. I mean it was Jean’s TV room. He even had his own kitchenette), and eyed the drink selection with a sneer.

“Yeah, no beer tonight. Well, except for me; I live here.” He stepped over my legs and fell to sit between me and Armin. I couldn’t help rolling my eyes when I realized he’d be right next to me all evening, especially right after I’d given his legs a thorough examination in those jeans. “Help yourself to anything else, though.”

I cracked open a Dr. Pepper and sighed. It was a small gathering, and if I didn’t have so much else to think about I would have been flattered to be included (even if I knew it was mostly because Armin insisted). Introductions went around the room during commercial breaks. I was just distracted enough, just on the verge of getting comfortable enough, that I was caught completely off guard when Jean poked me in the shoulder and asked, “So you met Annie?”

I already didn’t like where this was going. “Yes…” I turned my head to look at him suspiciously.

“And?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be saying right now.”

“She’s hot, isn’t she? She’s single.”

“Annie Leonhardt? From St. Maria’s?” One of the lesbians was sitting next to me. Her name was Ymir and the ennui all over her face reminded me of Levi on a particularly bad day. She interrupted our conversation as if the name was a homing beacon for the Melissa Etheridge set. “She’s straight?”

“I dunnow,” Jean shrugged one shoulder. “She told Mikasa she thought Eren was cute, so I guess so.”

“I just met her this morning!” I didn’t add _I had Corn Flakes all over my face._ “I mean, she’s not my type, though.”

“What _is_ your type, Eren?” Jean sighed, and I glanced away from the smug look on his face. This was about the bet we’d made, whether he wanted to call me out in front of everyone or not. I snorted through my nose.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” _No, actually, you probably really would not. Or, at least, I’d rather you didn’t._ And then, before I knew it, my mouth did that thing it does. That thing where it starts to move and I start to say things before I think about them and the consequences. “And for your information, I’m seeing someone.”

He leaned back slightly. I was glad. Despite my constant efforts in telling myself the opposite, he actually smelled pretty good. I didn’t want that thought clouding up my perceptions. “What’s that? This is new.”

Armin leaned forward, his face all out of sorts. I didn’t want him to look so betrayed, but if I’d stopped to think about things like that for a moment I wouldn’t have shot my big dumb mouth off. “Ehh?”

“It’s not someone from school.” It was too late now. I had to bury myself in the lie wholesale, at least for as long as I could get away with it.

“So… Annie?” Jean smirked.

“There are people who don’t go to our school that aren’t Annie.”

“Uh-huh. Please tell me it’s Annie. I heard she even stayed at your house last night.” He reached in to poke me in the side. I flailed and held my soda can out of harm’s way while I shoved him off.

“It’s not Annie!”

Armin was right. The guy was persistently physical. But now was not the time to think about Jean’s sexual M.O.

“Then what’s her name?”

I took a cursory inventory of the other guests. No one else was really paying attention to me as the Ravens managed a 50-yard touchdown run. I tried to stop myself from saying it. I panicked. I said it. “Tirne.”

Jean stopped in the middle of the sip he was taking from his beer, so suddenly that he had to wipe a drop from his chin where there was a little trouble. He narrowed his eyes at me. “Tirne?” He repeated.

Armin was just lifting an eyebrow, probably seeing through my ruse and knowing I didn’t have a girlfriend at all. Armin, however, probably just thought I was lying. Jean, on the other hand…

I nodded. Again, no take-backs. “Tirne des Ailes.”

Moments passed. He nodded slowly again, and then stood up. “Eren, my man, come to the kitchen with me.”

I took in a deep breath to fill my chest, grumbling under that as I rose to follow him. Armin was still looking at me with one eyebrow raised. When I gave him a desperate grimace he just shrugged at me, silently saying “what the hell, man?” before he pointed in the direction of the kitchen.

I caught up, and as soon as we were behind more private walls Jean turned, wearing an expression that might have been hilarious if it weren’t also deathly serious.

“Tirne des Ailes,” he repeated, leaning against the center island and crossing one ankle over the other.

“That’s what I said.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

I just took in a deep breath and wondered how I could continue the half-truth when I realized it was, in fact, only half a life.

He didn’t want to wait for me to explain myself. “You’re not dating her.”

I snorted a breath out through my nose and decided to be contentious. “You mean _him.”_

“No, I mean _her,_ if you’re referring to a drag queen by _her_ name, asshole.” He waved off his frustration quickly enough, and leaned closer to me. “Eren, are you gay? You have to give me the satisfaction of knowing I was right.”

“What?” I reared back from him a little. I’d been prepared for the first question, and had even girded myself for it a bit. But the addendum was a shocker.

“I have the best gaydar in this entire town, okay? I knew about you the minute I saw you, but…” He stopped and waved at the air again. “Come on, really, man? Why did you pull Tirne des Ailes out of nowhere? She’s legend around here. You could have tried harder than that to come up with some girl to throw me off your scent.” 

I dragged my hands down my face. It was too monumental a conversation to be having with _Jean_ , of all people, while I still hadn’t had a chance to really think it through for myself. “She’s on my mind, okay? I… last night… you know, I haven’t even talked to Armin about this!” I turned to leave, but Jean grabbed me by the arm. I wrenched it away on instinct. I stayed, but I wasn’t about to let him manhandle me.

“Wait, wait wait. Last night…? Wait. Eren, did I just lose a bet?” His face actually lit up a little at the thought. I had enough people already trying to claim ownership of my sexuality; I didn’t want him joining in, though it seemed like it was too late.

“No!” I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and sighed mightily. “No! You didn’t! I haven’t! But…”

Armin poked his head in before I could embarrass myself further. “Um, sorry to interrupt. But Tomas is ordering pizza, do you want some?”

“Whoa!” Jean ran for the door and barked around the corner. “We’re all ordering food together at halftime! I’m paying. You guys hold your horses! Damn.” Shaking his head, he came back into the kitchen, and pulled Armin along.

Armin looked at me nervously, and I can only assume the nerves ratcheted up when I looked away, ashamed that I hadn’t told him first.

“I was right,” Jean said to Armin, more prissily than I’d heard him say anything yet. “He’s gay.”

“Eren!” Armin cried out, shouting at first before he remembered his indoor voice. “What? What happened? What is this all about?”

“Armin,” I pleaded, “I want to talk to _you_ about this first, okay?” With that I shot poison darts from my eyes in Jean’s direction.

He caught the look, rolled his eyes, and held his hands up in surrender. “Fine.” It was a really bitchy sort of surrender, though, as he turned and walked out dramatically. I narrowed my eyes after him and certainly didn’t notice that his ass looked really good in those jeans. Crap, I actually did. I had to stop with the asses thing. I also had to stop with the other-people’s-boyfriends thing, apparently. Maybe it was just that Jean was only tolerable to look at from behind. Or at least the neck down.

_Whoa. Eren, stop._

I told Armin everything. I tried to make it as concise as possible, but Jean still checked back in on a couple of occasions, making the excuse that he was getting more drinks. By the time I finally led Armin up to my awkward morning and my continuing confusion throughout the day, he was just looking at me, mouth open in an adorable pout like he couldn’t decide whether he was horrified or delighted. “Maybe you’re just—“

I cut him off firmly. “I don’t think there’s much to wonder about. I’m more turned on by him than by anyone I’ve ever been around.”

“But… he was...”

While Armin tried to find a way to phrase the fact that my revelation had occurred under the influence of a drag queen, I took the opportunity to speak again. “Are you trying to convince me that I’m confused?”

He stammered. “N-no! I just… Eren, I’m just wanting to make _sure_.”

Part of me hated the way he sounded so full of himself, so preachy, so _above me_ , like just because he’d been learning his way around the dirty details of homosexuality, he was suddenly the arbiter of my sincerity.

I didn’t have time to second guess myself. “ _I’m_ sure, though.”

Armin took in a deep breath, nodded. “Okay. I…” He stopped himself from saying whatever had started. “Thanks for telling me.”

“You’re my best friend,” I said gently. “I need you for this.”

We enjoyed the friendly silence for a few moments, feeling intimacy swell as close as it dared to a tangible thing between us. We’d had few times like this, where we knew we needed to tell each other how important it was to just _be there_ , to take on that role. The last time I remembered was when mom died. We were still incredibly uncomfortable with it, of course. Emotions were still really weird for us.

“Thanks,” he said, shrugging sheepishly.

“We’d better get back to the thing,” I mentioned, and pointed my thumb at the TV room. Armin nodded.

As he passed me, he touched my arm and made sure he had my attention. “Now I’m even more eager to talk to you when we leave here, though.”

I gave him a strange look. He practically fell into Jean’s lap when we reached the sofa, holding him close for the rest of the game. I felt, just slightly, that he was _preening_ for me by doing so.  Jean sent me home with a half-hug, half-slap, warning that I should “talk to him before I went and did anything dumb,” which I took offense to before I thought about what a sincere sentiment it was.

“Okay,” Armin didn’t even have his seatbelt on before he jumped right into things. “So what did you do, how far did you go?”

“I didn’t…” I had to think about driving, so I waited until I was safely moving forward down the road before glaring at him for effect. “I told you. Nothing. Nothing yet.”

“Oh, you were serious. I thought that was because you didn’t want to say anything while we were there.”

“No, I actually haven’t done anything yet.” I sighed and muttered under my breath, purposefully loud enough for Armin to hear. “I just know I want to.”

Armin nodded, leaned forward, turned the volume up slightly, realized it was just “Black Hole Sun”, turned it back down a little, and cleared his throat. I knew he wanted to say something. His cues hadn’t changed much since he was a little kid.

“What is it?”

“Do you know about the prostate?”

My eyebrows pushed in together as I thought. I’d heard of it, definitely. “Like, the cancer?”

“Yeah, that’s the first thing I thought of, too.”

“Isn’t it, like, a tumor you get or something? That’s what it sounds like. Why are you bringing this up?”

“It’s really not that. I just…” He took a very deep breath, like he was remembering something that already made me a little uncomfortable to be in his company. “Whoo boy. Okay, um.” We reached a red light and I looked over to see Armin push one hand up through his bangs and grin. “So first of all, Jean’s a bottom.”

Before I could make the requisite stunned face, I shouted, “Did you do it?!”

“No!” Armin waved his hands between us. “No, not yet! The light’s green!”

I accelerated somehow before the person behind me had a chance to lay on their horn.

“Whoa, so…” I had to think about it a moment. “So, seriously, Jean does that? He takes it?”

“Yup. Hand to God.”

“Up the butt?”

“That’s the way it works, Eren.” He giggled despite the fact that he was chiding me.

“I thought that was, like… I thought he acted more manly than that.”

Armin laughed, albeit nervously. “Yeah, me too. That’s why I was kinda scared, because I thought I’d just be ‘the girl’ by default or whatever. But no. Um, no.”

“How did you find out? Like, did you ask, or…?”

“Well…” He started to talk faster as I drove down the street that led directly into our neighborhood. “We were making out, and um —okay, Eren, I’m gonna get sort of graphic here, do you mind? If you mind, just tell me.”

Part of me didn’t want to hear anything graphic about Jean, at the same time that a totally different part of me _did._ I’d made a very important decision about myself, and as a result even the uncomfortable details would prove valuable. Especially in the company of someone with as much as experience as Levi. I gritted my teeth. “No, please tell me.”

Armin let out a grateful breath. “We were making out in his room and I was just feeling him up, you know, like we do before things get going. And he asked me to go lower. I’m like ‘okay…’ and, you know, I didn’t know what he was talking about, so I was sort of like ‘do you mean your balls? What the hell are you talking about?’ So he said ‘no, I mean my ass.’ And I was all ‘whoooaaaa, hold on, where is this going?’ You know.”

“Yeah.” It was strange the way I hung on every word, knowing this was _exactly_ what I wanted to know, even considering the awkward inclusion of my best friend’s sexual exploits.

“So he took his pants off and…” Armin paused for a long time, and I could sense his frustration. “I don’t know how graphic I want to be, actually. But, you know, he gives me this thing of Vaseline and he just starts explaining that he wants me to, you know, get up in there.”

“With your fingers?”

“Yeah, with my fingers.”

“Whoa. Wait, does that… that can’t feel very good.”

“No, I’m getting there!” Armin turned in his seat and was facing me as I went on. “Okay, apparently before you do it for real you need to get ready, like it’s important not to just go right in because, you know, dicks are big.”

“If you’re lucky,” I interjected. Armin laughed, still nervous. I had to add, just for my own ego, “Yeah, though, Levi kind of mentioned you need to do that. He didn’t give me any details, but…”

“You two talked about it?” Armin lifted an eyebrow.

“Yes! Go on!” I pulled into the driveway at his house and parked. We weren’t going anywhere, though. Not while this conversation was happening.

“So I’m, you know,” I tried not to snicker at the fact that Armin was talking with his hands, fingers in a very compromising gesture, “doing it… and it’s weird because he’s _into it_ , you know?” He was smiling wider, looking almost proud of himself. “Like, the more I did it, the more I moved around, he was just squirming on me, moaning; it was really, really hot.”

“Armin,” I warned him.

“Whatever. Wait until you’re there.” He rolled his eyes. “He tells me to go deeper, and starts telling me to sort of…” He started moving his finger in a beckoning motion, laughing as he did. “Sort of start doing that. So, of course, I did. Um…”

“What?”

Armin let his hand hit his lap, and gave me a startlingly intense look. I could tell that he was getting caught up in the memories. “Okay, so I looked it up. The prostate is a gland that’s up in there, and if you massage it you just… it’s like… you just go _crazy_. I didn’t even _know_ , I was just doing what he told me, and finally he just told me to stay right where I was, doing what I was doing. It’s weird because you can almost _feel_ it, but not really? It’s small. And it’s kinda far up there.”    

“Whoa, so that’s in your _ass_?” I gaped, suddenly happier with the decisions I’d just made. I remembered what Levi said to me. _Oh, yeah. He mentioned this, in his own weird way._

Armin nodded rapidly, and his eyes glazed over like he was completely lost in a flashback. “Wow, if Jean was any indication, I just… he was practically _vibrating_ , and I didn’t even know what was going _on_ , I just went with it. He like, barely touched himself.” He lowered his voice like we weren’t alone, like he was sharing a state secret. “He came _so hard_ , but not the way you usually come hard, you know? Like, he didn’t _shoot_ , he just--“

I made a quick, distasteful noise that was only a matter of course. I actually wanted to hear about it, for my own educational purposes. Armin was good at this; teaching me things I never wanted to find out on my own because I was caught up in the idea of always _experiencing_ things instead of knowing about them (which led to a very limited life, sexual or not).

“Oh, fine, like it’s not interesting, at the very least. I’ll bet you’ve never come like that.”

“Hey, hey, hey, why are we discussing how I come?” I barked.

“We’re not! It’s just, if you’re going to get around to anything with Levi I want you to know about it!”

I sighed and swallowed back the temptation to make a more incriminating sound at the thought of Levi. The thought of Levi specifically combined with the thought of that. Finally, after a few more seconds and as Armin gathered his things, I snickered. “Thanks for being a friend.”

He laughed, too. “Thanks for being gay, I guess?”

I shook my head and he didn’t leave until we’d recovered from an impromptu nervous-energy giggle fit that ate up a good five more minutes.

Of course I tried it once I was home. Of course I found some Vaseline in the medicine cabinet and of course I wasted absolutely no time.

Of course, though, I had no idea what I was doing. Of course, I didn’t know the mechanics. All I realized once I came into my hand with a slicked-up ass was that I didn’t want to give up trying. That realization came on the heels of knowing that I _did_ like the feeling. There was something gratifyingly bizarre about touching myself there, even without finding the magic button Armin told me about.

 _I’m a bottom_ , I thought. I’d been almost sure of the opposite, consider how much I was enjoying just _looking_ at asses lately. Maybe that had been a subconscious thing. Self-discovery felt great, especially on the heels of an orgasm.

As the rush wore off and I drifted into those weirdly anxious moments that sometimes followed, though, I remembered: so was Levi.

Because life is nothing if not suffering when you’re 16, I threw my wrist over my face and scowled into the darkness of my bedroom. “Balls.”  


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood whiplash tbh.

Levi had two days off from the donut shop every week. When he wasn’t there for a third day in a row, I started to worry. What wasn’t worry was a feeling of being cheated for the nights before, when I’d made a particular effort to look presentable before showing up for some food.

On Thursday night, at last, he was there. I swallowed hard when I walked up to the window, hoping against hope that it wasn’t obvious I’d been masturbating to his memory for the better part of week.

“Hey, stranger,” he greeted me.

“Hey,” I said, almost losing my voice when I finally opened my mouth. I remembered the way Levi had acted in the club once he learned Erwin was there; that’s not what I wanted to seem like. I put a great effort after that into trying to be my usual self. “What have you been up to?”

He looked at his hands, casually examining a fingernail, and shrugged. “I’ve been moving into a new place. Other than that, not much. You getting anything tonight?”

 _Lucky_ , _I hope._ I actually expected nothing of the sort, but it was too good a joke to not consider. I beat back a snicker as I answered him.

“Yeah.” I ordered, and Levi filled my order, but as I watched him perform his job and heard him keep up a decently snappy conversation with me, I got the overwhelming sensation that something was _off_. He always looked bored, of course, like the world didn’t really deserve his full attention, but this time something else was going on. He didn’t seem like himself. I reminded myself that I was trying to seem casual, and beat back the urge to feel concerned.

He took his break while I was still there, as usual, but he didn’t make a move for my table. After almost ten minutes, he was still just leaning on the wall, smoking. My discomfort reached uncharted heights, and I wadded up my trash in my bag.

“Hey,” he said as I made to leave.

“Yeah?” I was only vaguely surprised that he called for me, but I was glad he had.

“Can you come here when we close?”

“I guess, maybe. Why?

“I want to talk to you.”

He wasn’t looking at me. I told him that, okay, I would be back.

My heart jackhammered in my chest all the way home, and I knew even as I sat on my bed that I wasn’t about to get anything else done before nine o’clock. The possibilities were obvious, and each was as stressful as the next. _Maybe he knows I’m talking about him. Maybe he’s not happy. Maybe he’s telling me to get lost, because he’s in a relationship. Maybe he’s not; maybe he’s just telling me to get lost because I’m a big idiot. He thinks I’m a child, of course he doesn’t—_

Mikasa knocked on my door. I was almost grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, what is it?”

She stepped into my room almost shyly, which immediately told me that something was up. Usually she barged in the way a big sister is supposed to. “Hey.”

“Hey…” I looked around, hoping I’d missed something. “What’s up?”

“Hey, I just…” She braced herself with a sigh, and tugged at the bandana she usually wore around her neck. It looked good with the sort of stuff she usually wore, and had ever since I’d given it to her when she was 8. I’d been worried recently that she might stop wearing it. Now that she was starting to dress like an adult more often. “Can we talk?”

Two big talks in one night. Why not, I figured. Bring it on, nothing left to lose. I slapped the bed next to me, and Mikasa walked over to take a seat. She looked up at the ceiling. “Did you take down your black light poster?”

“Yeah, it was sort of lame, wasn’t it? Besides, my black light died.” I used to have it tacked up on the ceiling right above my bed. It was just a big cortex of swirling neon colors.

“I liked that poster. Do you still have it? I want it.”

“No, I threw it out. They still sell the same one at Spencer’s, if you want it that bad.” I stared at my lap.

“Cool. Maybe we’ll go to the mall this weekend.”

Mikasa went quiet but, being how we were, it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. I forgot all about Levi for a bit and just sat there in the mutual silence until Mikasa’s hand came down on my shoulder. “About the other morning…”

I tensed. I wasn’t sure which morning she meant, and if it was the morning I thought I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk about it. “Eh?”

“How Annie spent the night and you started calling her my girlfriend because you’re a little punk? That morning. About that morning.”

“Yeah, what about it?” I grumbled.

“This sounds stupid, but it sort of made me think. I feel really weird when you don’t know who I’m thinking of dating, or who I like. We used to be so close in middle school like that, when I had my first boyfriend and you got all protective. What happened?”

It took me exactly one second to cut to the quick of the situation. “Sex.”

Mikasa nodded slowly. “Yeah, I suppose that does make it strange. Stranger than usual. But just so you know, you’re still my idiot little brother. And I’m going to try and deserve all you’ve done for me. So starting now, how about we be more open? Maybe? Especially now.”

I narrowed my eyes at her and the tender moment turned suspicious. “Did Armin say anything?”

She just nodded, but somehow we didn’t explode into an argument at that cue. I just sighed and shook my head. “He never could keep a secret.”

“Do you really like Levi?” She asked.

I could bullshit everyone else on the planet, sometimes even with a straight face. But not Mikasa. “Yup,” I said plainly.

She didn’t reprimand me. She didn’t freak out because he was so much older or launch into all the reasons it wouldn’t work. Because of course it wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t stop me from riding the disappointment train to its inevitable end, but at least Mikasa didn’t make me feel stupid. There was silence, and she started to rub my back with her hand like I needed some help digesting a meal. I found a comfortable rhythm to my breathing, and by the time we felt like talking again I realized it was already half past 8:00. “Who do you like?” I asked.

“No one yet,” she said simply, quietly. “But I kinda like me for the first time. And I like that more than I thought I would.”

I laughed quietly and shook my head before reaching up to hold her hand softly in mine. “You’re a cool sister,” I pointed out, feeling a bit juvenile for putting it that way, but glad that I still had chances to be that way around Mikasa.

She leaned in and enveloped me in a hug, embracing me so tightly after a few moments that I whined while she growled in her own mama bear sort of way. “I’m proud of you.”

She pulled back and adjusted the bandana again, showing me a rare glimmer of a smile when she did. Before she left the room, though, she paused at my door. It was like she wanted to say something, and then changed her mind, and then hesitated again.

“What?” I asked.

She pointed fleetingly at my nightstand, turning the motion into a way to play with her hair while she averted her glance. “Vaseline’ll make a condom break,” she said, and cleared her throat. “You might not want to go that route. And you’d better use a condom, or I’ll curbstomp you both.”

Mortification, as usual, was the perfect way to get me out of the house. Right on schedule.

It was getting just a touch chillier during the evenings, so I pulled on a sweatshirt and hit the pavement, trying to forget about all of the awful possibilities I’d let cloud my mind earlier. I crunched into the parking lot and waved as nonchalantly as possible when I caught Levi’s eye. Though it took him a few minutes longer to close, he was already taking out the keys to his car when he walked up to me.

“Is everything all—“ I started to ask.

Levi shut me up with one look and pointed curtly. “The car.”

“Is something wrong? I’m not getting in there if something’s wrong,” I took a step away. Like him? Sure I did. Want him? About as much as my libido could handle, especially since he was a wearing a slightly tighter t-shirt than usual that night. Trust him? Not entirely. Not especially. Not even a little bit, really. Not yet.

He tightened his jaw and breathed in through his nose, closing his eyes in a moment of meditation before he could answer me. “I just want to drive. I just want to drive and talk. Is that okay, or did you have other plans, your majesty?” When his eyes opened again he looked a bit vicious. I didn’t want to admit it was a good look on him.

“No, I want to… I can do that…”

I was still a nervous wreck by the time we were out of the parking lot and he was rolling down the window to let the air blow through the car.

“So… new place, huh?”

“Yeah,” Levi answered, more relaxed already once we were on the road. “I had to save up enough for the deposit and stuff, but I’m in there. It’s weird. I was living with friends before, just crashing here and there. So I don’t have much stuff, and to be honest I don’t want much stuff.”

“That makes sense. I don’t have much stuff, either.” If it weren’t for clutter and my dad’s furniture, in fact, Mikasa and I could probably move everything we owned into an efficiency. “Stuff is overrated.”

Levi gave a breathy, mirthless laugh. He could tell I was trying too hard. “Yeah, that’s a way to think about it. Anyway, I’m not really happy there so I don’t want to go home just yet. It’s so quiet. I liked being around people better.”

“So why did you move in?”

“Wasn’t my choice,” he answered sternly, as if I’d finally stumbled upon a connection to his current mood.

I just nodded, and when I realized he probably hadn’t seen me I added a quick, “Ah.”

“Don’t ask whose choice it was.”

“I wasn’t going to—“

He sighed heavily to interrupt me, though, and started to tap out a nervous rhythm on his steering wheel. After a few moments it started to match the tempo of the Candlebox song on the radio, and I wondered where we were going. Not out loud, of course. I didn’t dare speak. My hands were sweating so I wiped them off on my jeans. I was a mess, but at least I was with him.

“So, let me ask you a question, kid.”

The “kid” moniker hurt more than usual. I sighed. “Okay.”

“Have you ever misjudged someone completely? Like, I mean, have you ever gotten a little too creative in your liberties with what you don’t know, filled in the blanks, and then hurt because of it? Like, anybody. I’m talking about anyone.”

“Well…” Not really. I hadn’t lived the life Levi had. I hadn’t really gotten close to many people. Not since mom died, and certainly not lately. _I’m wondering if I’m doing that right at this instant, actually._ “Not really.”

“Not really…” Levi repeated, and I saw him nod. When I caught the nod, I couldn’t help keeping my eyes on him. Honestly, I hadn’t taken much time to look at him. Every time I did, he wound up looking me in the eye and intimidating me out of the examination. And it made sense; who liked to be appraised like that, unless they specifically made themselves a thing to be looked at? I’d been too confused during the show on Sunday to take in much besides his legs and his curves, both real and fake, but in the lowlight of the car I noticed a few things for the first time.

He wore two silver studs in his right ear, and the trim on his shorter hair was extremely clean. I could only assume he kept up with it himself, the cut looked so fresh. There wasn’t a hint of a five o’clock shadow on his face. His neck was longer than I’d noticed, his jawline just soft enough to make him a convincing woman.

I didn’t want to make the leap because it was the last thing I wanted to discuss, and also because Levi had only promised to tell me when he was ready. However, the empathy I’d learned in my short life was limited to a few combinations of emotion and reaction. Besides, he said he wanted to talk to me. I had to ask. “What happened?”

When he gave me a sharp harrumph I expected little more. Then, the car started to slow down. I didn’t even recognize where we were, but we were halfway to the other side of town. Levi turned off of the road and the car bounced violently on the unpaved field beyond. “Where are we?”

“Out by the industrial park. It’s just a vacant lot. I come here a lot because it’s off the radar, and there’s not a lot of light pollution to you can really see the stars.” Before he let me think things were getting maudlin, he added, “It’s great when you’re depressed and just want to think.”

He parked and exited the car. I only assumed I was supposed to follow, so I stood rather unsure of myself next to the car. The moon was out, and it was almost startlingly bright. I watched as Levi slid onto the car and wiggled up to plant himself in the crook between windshield and hood, leaning his back against the glass. “Come on,” he waved at me.

Far less gracefully, I joined him. The hood was still very hot, but it didn’t feel so bad in the crisp night air, once I settled in and knew I wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. “Okay, so,” he started with a sigh that could only be described as a preamble. “I don’t know whether to start at the very beginning or just tell you why I feel like shit right now.”

“How about why you feel like shit right now?”

He pulled out a slim black case from his pocket and pulled a hand-rolled clove cigarette out. As he held it between his lips and bent down to light it in cupped hands, he mumbled, “Because I’m someone’s project.”

I didn’t answer. I had no idea what he was talking about. I’d never been good at context clues, at following inferences. Levi sucked on his cigarette and brought his head up, tossing his bangs imperiously. He still lifted his fingers to make sure the hair was in place, parted expertly down the middle. “That doesn’t make sense to you, I know. But that’s the short of it. It’s like all at once I learned that I’m not worth what I am currently, and I’m only really worth what someone wants to turn me into. And that hurts. Like, even if I needed it, it hurts. And I’m saying I needed it, but that’s past tense. I’m over certain things because I had a reason to be over certain things. It’s just… it’s hard… to know your worth is impertinent. And that the reason wasn’t even there to begin with.”         

As Levi spoke, he fidgeted, but not in a nervous way. He pulled his legs in to cross them loosely, and leaned forward into the pose. Everything he did, every way he moved, it complemented his intention. He was smart. Of course I’d gathered this before, but it was usually buried in street knowledge or some sarcastic remark. The way he used words was very relaxing, though. He wasn’t talking above me, but he was choosing what he said carefully.

“Erwin,” I said quietly. I had to latch onto my moments of clarity when I had them.

He looked up at me sharply. No other muscle on his face moved, he just fixed his big, hooded eyes at me and _glared_. I could almost feel what he wanted me to know, just seeing his jaw set in that expression. It was the way I looked at Mikasa when she caught me doing something humiliating, beyond even the usual level. That warning edge was on the firm stretch of his lips, like he was about to tell me not to look at him.

A disarming expression rippled over Levi’s face, then, and everything about him went stunningly unguarded for just a second before he dragged off his cigarette again and started to talk. “The night I got picked up for kicking in the face of the shitfuck who tried to rape me, the only number I had on me was Erwin’s. We’d just hooked up the week before, and I was carrying around his number like a pathetic little souvenir. I was too ashamed of what had happened to tell anyone else, I guess. Like, I’m the one who gets violated but then I’m the one who has to explain to the cops that I was defending myself. Erwin was still just this guy I’d met at the bar, a random pick-up, this vision who shouldn’t have even given me a second look. I hardly expected him to answer my call, much less show up and post my bail looking like this perfect white knight…”

Levi chuckled humorlessly and shook his head out of the memory. “We lived in a hotel room for about a week and a half this summer. I came down off the coke and the amyls, I told him my life story. He said he was going to help me.” He paused for several moments, a wan half-smile just barely visible on the shadowed side of his face. “Don’t trust a man who says he’s going to help you. That’s code that you’re not actually important. Of course, I didn’t believe him at first. I gave up on thinking people would help me shortly after my parents kicked me out and changed the locks on the house I grew up in. Hanji was the only person who ever helped me, but she knew she wouldn’t control me.

“Then, sometime this summer, between the sex and the marathon conversation, I started to trust him. I sort of… surrendered to him.” I actually heard him swallow hard, like the thought was a bitter one that went down uncomfortably for a few different reasons. “We just fucked and talked and watched the world go by like it didn’t matter, and while I was talking about how I was going to change, while he was assuring me I could, I was thinking ‘yes, this is okay. This is okay because I’ve got someone to change for.’ And trying to earn someone is a pretty potent drug. It keeps you going, it really does. And why wouldn’t I want to earn him? I mean have you _seen_ him?”

I had nothing to offer, but Levi didn’t want me to. I didn’t want to be a little shit and say that my Vice Principal wasn’t my type, especially not when Levi seemed to be handling his own emotional turmoil over the attraction that still, overwhelmingly, probably painfully, remained. “And why wouldn’t I have trusted him? I mean, he’s upstanding, he’s successful. He’s down for anything, though – I mean, he seems really straight-laced and conservative but he is a _freak_. I mean that in a good way. I did shit with him I never even thought of, and I loved every moment of it. I _felt_ something for the first time in so long. Like, it sits in my stomach and gets me so _angry_ , because I can still _feel—“_

Levi stopped, clutched his face, and growled. He was sick of showing emotions, of coming close enough to make it obvious he had them. “I didn’t hear from him for a couple of weeks after that. Right before school started up again, he came to the bar out of nowhere and told me to go down to the donut shop, that I had a job interview on the condition that I treat it as a first step. I didn’t think much of it. It was nice, the idea of joining productive society, not scrounging tips for a living. Especially since I’d made the decision not to go back on the hard stuff, I was suddenly seeing _money_ , and it was exciting. I mean, I had something to work for, you know? Every time he showed up I hoped he’d take me home. It never happened that way. I felt like a stray dog. But I had _hope_ , if I could just get _good enough_.”

I felt the story building up to its conclusion, and I already knew it wouldn’t be a good one. “There was always… still is… something about him that seems so cold. Not like he doesn’t care, but like he’s actively trying not to care. That’s a whole different thing, you know? Putting actions and gestures before everything else. He cosigned the lease on this apartment on the condition that I hold the job for a month and pay all the move-in fees myself. I called him to thank him when I moved in, thinking maybe finally I had a reason to tell him this was getting more emotional for me, the longer I had to think about it.”

I braced myself. Intuition was something I’d inherited. My eyes slid closed before Levi even said the words. “His wife answered. ‘This is _Mrs._ Smith,’ she said when I asked if he was there, and I just froze up and pretended to be a telemarketer.”     

I nodded and looked away, giving Levi at least that privacy for a moment or two as he chuckled darkly. I couldn’t understand what he was going through, because I’d never been there, but the depth and terrible sound of that chuckle made the emotion come alive. He sighed and simply opened his mouth to let a hazy plume of smoke out of his mouth. “Savior complexes are shitty things. White knights don’t exist, Eren. Not for people like us.”

I didn’t worry about what he meant by that. My heart was hurting for him, beating in my throat as I watched his face go cold again, watched him firm up his jaw as he tried to put the mask back on as tightly as it would go. Not knowing what else to do, and not wanting to do anything that didn’t feel 100% sincere, I let my fingers inch over until they covered his.

Levi looked down at our hands. “You don’t need to get all romantic, kid.”

I’d learned not to argue with him, not that I still wouldn’t in less important situations. I just leaned further in and tilted my head down, kissed him before he could deflect me.

His lips clamped onto mine before I knew what was going on. Without a word he fumbled to smash his cigarette out, and refused to let go of my mouth as he wound his arms around me, tugged at my sweatshirt, arched into my movements. He was a deep kisser. An aggressive kisser. I’d never felt anything like it, and I’d never expected it. Then again, I’d never been kissed before. I mirrored his energy as well as I could, sliding my tongue in against his and pushing my mouth harder, going with whatever seemed right, still unsure it was even happening. I heard him breathing hard and rough against me as his fingers tightened, like he was channeling everything through those moments. He was angry, but not at me.

My first kiss. When it finally ended, it was only because Levi let go of me. He lay back against the windshield and looked away from me. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“You know how last week, I asked you if you wanted to make out?”

“Yeah.” It happened to be a conversation I replayed in my brain almost constantly.

“I don’t like making out, really. Not usually. Kissing depresses me.”

“Okay.” I thought momentarily, to distract myself, probably, about the worlds Armin and I were inhabiting, the relationships we were navigating, and how different they were.

“That was okay, though. You don’t kiss like a pussy.”

I whispered. “That was my first kiss.”

He scratched the back of his head and nodded. “Yeah, I figured.”

I could only assume that what he’d said was an indication that we weren’t to continue on that track. My mind, however, was still spiraling out of control on the fact that I’d just gone for it. I wasn’t even really considering how emotionally volatile he was. I was just living in the moment, wanting to either see how far I could get or run home to decompartmentalize the evening immediately.

I wasn’t going home, I knew that much. “Do you wanna just… stay out here for a while?” I asked.

“That’s good. That’s great, actually.”

It was the closest Levi came to a vehement agreement. We stretched back on the long hood of his car and I tried not to act overly stunned when he reached for my hand again, lacing our fingers together. I stared up at the sky and listened to him breathing, listened to the wind whistling through the field, rustling the weeds and wildflowers around.

“Hey.” He got my attention again after several minutes, in the same way he always did.

“What?”

“Want me to pop your cherry? Get it over with? I could go for a fuck, honestly, and you’re okay to look at.”

My throat nearly closed up and I felt a sharp, sudden stab of overwhelming emotion, like I wanted to laugh and cry and jump him all at once.

“That only applies to girls,” I pointed out, masking my nerves with stubbornness. I dared to turn my head to look at him, just as he did the same.

“I was trying to be poetic. Want me to take your virginity off your hands?” A pause. “But, for the record, I think poking your ass for the first time certainly warrants the same visceral description.”

I braced myself with a deep breath and couldn’t believe what I was about to say. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him, but something didn’t feel right. The evening wound up being too comfortable, but as soon as he mentioned that, I seized up in inexplicable fear. “I don’t think tonight is a good night.”

_I don’t just want to get it over with._

He shrugged. “I’m on the rebound. Maybe you’re smarter than you look.”

I had no idea what that meant.

“Besides,” _oh my god Eren stop talking when things are going well_ , “I thought you were a bottom.”

He took it in stride. “Only when it’s worth it.”

I managed not to be vaguely offended by the implication. “Huh?”

“I like it to hurt.”

“What? Why?”

I looked over at him again but Levi was staring at the sky, long neck and soft jaw in stunning profile. “Because I’m fucked up.” He paused. “Sorry I’m fucked up.”

“It’s okay,” I said quietly, and squeezed his hand. He didn’t pull it away. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this one is heavy. From a lot of the comments I've received, I gather that you guys (for the most part) enjoy the coming-of-age aspects of the story. Well, thank you, first of all. Some of it's difficult to write, emotionally, but it always makes me feel better to give it some depth. So, allow me to take it a step beyond what I usually would. 
> 
> Definitely this is beyond what I originally planned (ohhhhhh HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I SAID THAT, IN THE PAST), at the very least. I think we can mark this as the turning point where I took the story into long-form territory. 
> 
> *whispers "it was just supposed to be a smutty high school sex comedy a/u" aggressively*
> 
> Oh, and I'm still working on the vignettes/minisodes. One starring Jean and Armin is well underway, and there's another one featuring Levi, connected to the events of Chapter 7 (by request!) The Jean/Armin vignette will also provide some more Ymir screentime soooooooooo. I've got an idea for a Mikasa one-off, after this chapter. So yeah there's that. <3 
> 
> oh yeah I feel obligated to say that if you enjoy this maybe also check out my books on Amazon? The Acclamation series. It's pretty good. It puts food on my table.

This is the part where I explain how Mikasa and I got suspended from Trost High.

We were walking to the parking lot after school. It had been a strange day from the beginning, not for any particular reason. Things were happening just outside the lines, if that makes sense. Like we’d started the day a half-step behind everyone else and couldn’t match rhythm no matter how hard we tried. Classes had been more tedious than usual, and I retained exactly 0% of anything said to me, by teachers or otherwise.

“I’m ready to go home,” Armin said, readjusting his backpack on one shoulder.

“Are you going out tonight?” I asked. I’d finally managed not to make it sound contentious when I asked.

Armin sighed. “Nah, just going to…”

His focus shifted and he stopped walking for a moment. I tried to search out what he’d seen, but I was too distracted by my own plans for the evening. They weren’t anything special, really, but every opportunity to see Levi was suddenly becoming a swirling nausea of possibilities. I still hadn’t told anyone else about what happened that night out in the vacant lot by the industrial park. It didn’t seem right. Something about it felt private, protected. I just needed to enact a more ordinary scenario, and maybe then…

“Going to what?”

Armin drove his grandfather’s Oldsmobile whenever he could afford the gas. It wasn’t often, but lately I had the feeling he was getting some help from outside forces. The appeal of riding home with Jean everyday had taken a month to catch up to his grades, and Armin, being Armin, was starting to discipline himself again, especially with Jean more involved in his clubs as the school year got going. “Hang on.”

He sounded suspicious, a little frightened, but more than anything determined. His step got quicker and he moved ahead of us, pulling his backpack onto both shoulders and finally breaking into a short run.

I saw what he was running for and, instinctively, my resolve to follow him fell off. I heard Mikasa gasp audibly while I wondered what to do, seeing Armin standing there in front of his car with hands outstretched, dumbstruck and panicked.

“Please let that be shoe polish,” was all I could manage to say, just loud enough that Mikasa heard me. I looked away just as soon as I got the full picture of what was written on his car, had those words and that image seared into my brain. I wanted to spit it all back out immediately. A weird feeling swept over me, like nothing I’d ever known before, not even when I was pushed around for being poor. 

I could see how hard Armin was breathing when he turned to me. I could tell that he wanted to disappear, that he wanted to be anywhere else and was wondering if he could stop time, rewind, and keep from ever being there. Even he wasn’t that smart, though. Something inside of me shut down immediately. I had to be that way, because I’d known for years that I couldn’t _do_ anything for him when he got like that.  

“Oh my God,” I saw him choke on the words, not exactly loud enough to be heard.

My blood was boiling but I had to stay calm for him, until I saw a tangible way to direct all of that. “Should I go get—“       

“No!” He held out his arms and exclaimed, pleading with me. A couple of other kids passed by, snickering. I looked over at them and tightened my fists in the most threatening way I could muster. They looked away immediately and sped up. “Don’t get anyone; this isn’t important enough for that. Let’s just go get some soap and water and let’s clean the car off. I can’t drive it like this.”

“This is sure as hell important enough! Armin, I—“

“No, just let it be. Eren,” he gritted his teeth and growled my name, before he dared to turn around and look at the car again. “Eren, just listen to me.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Is this because of Jean?”

He looked back at me with a glare that made me take a step back. His voice was dangerous, corrosive. I’d crossed a line, at the worst moment. “You’ve been gay for a week, Eren. He’s known for three years. You think he hasn’t told me how to deal with this sort of thing?”

That stung. Not comfortable to look at Armin any longer, and still stalling on what exactly to do, I deferred to Mikasa.

Her jaw was set in a way I rarely saw, and her eyes were glistening with rage. She was on her tiptoes, scanning the area. “Mikasa…” Armin reached a hand out for her, too.

She wasn’t listening to him. She was chomping at the bit, breathing fire, stepping toward the car quickly and pounding on the roof. Armin flinched and curled into his own posture, while I just braced myself. “Hey!” She yelled at the top of her lungs. “Who the fuck did this? Who the _fuck_ is responsible for this, because I will kick your ass right now! I am _not fucking around!_ ”

“Mikasa…!” Armin tried again. But she wasn’t listening.

I couldn’t believe that I was frozen in place. I wanted to say the same things Mikasa was saying, but my lips weren’t moving. My fists were still balled but I felt like shrinking. I realized all at once that, for the first time since I’d learned how to initiate physical confrontations, I felt _threatened._ Not because of my abilities, but simply because of who I was. Of _what_ I was. 

I heard the laughter from across the street, in the adjacent stadium parking lot, just as Mikasa started to move. We didn’t have time to stop her. She was barreling toward the group of three big guys, pushing the sleeves of her flannel shirt up past her elbows.

“Mikasa!” Armin called again. I held a palm up to him.

“Armin, don’t.”

“What are you gonna do, princess?” I heard one of the guys say. Another added “fag hag” and I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt so scared I could die, but so angry that I was willing to go out fighting.   

Two hours later, we were lined up in chairs, the three of us and one of the boys. The other two were in the emergency room. I almost wish that were an exaggeration, not that they didn’t deserve it. But I knew already who was going to face the consequences.

Adding insult to injury was the matter of who was playing judge to what had happened. “Well, it’s disappointing all around, I’m not going to deny that. Armin, you did the right thing by not getting involved. I’m sorry you’ve had to stay so long.”

“I want to stay, sir.” I glanced at Armin and saw the humiliation all over his face before he asked, “Has the car been cleaned, at least?”

“They’re still working on it.” The custodial staff was charged with the task of cleaning Armin’s grandfather’s Oldsmobile, which was quite the arduous task once it was revealed that the paint was, in fact, not simply shoe-polish.

Vice Principal Erwin Smith’s attention turned to the boy I’d managed to punch once in the face while Mikasa was focused on the others. I’d then been pinned stomach down to have my arm nearly twisted out of socket, but it had been worth it. “Your parents will be informed, of course. And your friends’ parents. Depending on how this plays out, financial responsibility may be theirs.”

The boy spoke up immediately. “What about _her_ financial responsibility? She put them in the hospital!”

I kept my eyes on Erwin dutifully, save for the rare glances I shot Armin. I was searching for the humility on his face. I was searching for the shame, but also perhaps I was looking for those little _tells_ when he looked at us, or when he looked at that jerk’s slowly bruising eye. He was explaining something about school property meaning school insurance would cover that, and I kept staring. I was amazed by how stalwart he was, giving nothing away. Actively trying not to care, just like Levi had said.

He kept his eyes on the photographs of the car, though, largely, and I knew then why he kept his expression mostly hidden by the fist at his mouth. “I’m not going to tolerate this sort of behavior on either side, is that understood?”

We treated it as a rhetorical question, but then his eyes, normally kind but suddenly daggers, looked up and fixed on me. “Yes, sir,” I gulped and answered. 

I wondered if he recognized me. I wondered a lot of things.

Mikasa was given three day’s suspension, as was the boy in the office with us. The other two would be given the same treatment on top of the time they were out for medical reasons. Mikasa smirked at that.

I was given just a day’s suspension when Mikasa explained that I’d only joined in to protect Armin, that I had tried to stop her. I attempted to look convincing as I corroborated her story. Apparently it worked.

They weren’t able to get all the paint off. Armin’s grandfather was called, they offered to put the car in the shop at the expense of the school (to be reimbursed, I figured), and Armin called Jean to pick him up. The mood was earnest and the tension was palpable as Jean asked me to join them so we could all talk.

“I don’t want to,” I mumbled at my feet. Mikasa breezed past us and said she was driving home, to catch up if I was coming. The fact that I hesitated a few more seconds told her everything.

The sun was already setting. I felt a tear sliding down my cheek and I had no idea why. I’d wanted to spend the evening living my other life, hanging out at the donut shop and talking to the guy I’d kissed, the guy who gave me enough inspiration to face realities like this. Instead I had to _talk_ about it, and it made me angry enough to cry. I turned my head away from the parking lot lights and heard Jean take in a deep breath. “Eren, seriously, let’s talk. It’s time to strategize.”

Part of me – a big part of me – wanted to storm back to the school, throw open the door to the Vice Principal’s office, and say something profound and pointed. Demand that he stand up for us, and explain why he was standing up for us. But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t even get up enough self-regard to be sure he recognized me, much less that he would ever believe who I knew and what I knew about him.

At the very least, though, I knew that he knew what I was. The look on my face and the tone all over my testimony had gone beyond a simple camaraderie with Armin. 

So we went to Jean’s house to strategize.

“Those pricks are on the fringe, anyway. They’re ignorant and proud, they just got started early this year. Usually I can keep shit like that in check.” Jean focused on his thoughts, holding Armin close and looking at me from across his coffee table.  

I tongued the inside of my cheek to feel the bit of shredded flesh where one of the boys hit me and it grazed my teeth. “How in the world do you keep that in check; what do you even mean?”

“I mean I make friends with these guys, usually. You know, convince ‘em that we’re not on different teams, that I’m cool, and—“

“That doesn’t make sense, though. They only like you because you’ve got money.”

Jean’s face fell like he’d expected that. He sighed and massaged his temples. “No, it’s not just that. They like me because I act like a dude. You think I don’t want to _like_ being gay, to actually _be_ gay? I want to be gay. But it’s like I’m wearing camouflage.”

“It’s lying! You’re literally letting guys like Armin take the fall because you’re too scared.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Jean leaned forward and had a finger In my face. Armin was just out of my periphery, shaking his head like he was tired of everything. He ducked into the dip between cushions and curled up, leaving the rest to us. “I’m trying to make us look good!”

“Armin’s fine! What are you saying about him, by putting it that way?” I gestured grandly at Armin, but, having none of it, he just snapped back at me.

“I’m the way I am, Eren. You know what Jean means.” The underlying message was ‘leave me out of this’.

Without him to defend me, I threw all of my offense back at Jean. “I can’t believe you’d do that, then! It’s like… putting on a costume.”

“Yes!” Jean slapped his thighs and yelled at me, so intense that I was rattled. “Yes, that’s exactly what it is, because I have the ability to do it! I had people who liked me before I ever kissed a boy, because I had qualities people liked! I’m generous and I’m pleasant and I let people take advantage of things I have because that’s _surviving_ , Eren! You think you can just coast by not having friends and being all weird and broody, but you _can’t!_ Especially not now!”

I thought about Levi for the first time in a few hours and it was disquieting enough to keep me from arguing with Jean. “You’re lucky you have your sister,” he added. I had to read his body language to know he was sorry for his outburst. He’d never admit that on his own. “Just know… both of you, know… there are a lot more people who hate us than we can fight off. I tried it, and it just got me in more trouble than it was ever worth, because even when people side with us, it just makes the rest of them hate us more. So we have to try and fit in as much as we can.”     

For the first time, I respected the experience I could see behind his expression. Especially when it started to soften, and he wrung his hands in his lap. “After Marco left I thought it wasn’t worth it anymore. I wanted to give up and try to be normal, and then I met this goober.” He gestured back at Armin, and even though he was halfway into a fetal position, arms tucked between his knees and knees tucked beneath his chin, Armin smiled. “Like literally, the same week I was trying to play straight, I met him. Sometimes that’s how shit like that happens. Every now and then you remember that even though it sucks, it’s worth it. You think I don’t know people joke about me and take advantage of me? Come to my house and hang out but call me a cocksucker behind my back? Of course they do! I’m not stupid. But I’m here. I’m in good standing. I’m safe because I’m using what I have.”

I was quiet for several long moments. “I’m sorry,” I finally muttered.

He laughed drily and shook his head at me. “And that’s the thing, Eren, you’re the last person who really needs to apologize to me.”

We spent the rest of the night distracting Armin, getting him back in a good headspace, attempting to make him laugh. United for the common goal of brightening his mood, Jean and I worked better together than I ever expected. I had a question to ask him on my way out the door (Mikasa was picking me up – Armin wanted to stay behind, and had every right to do so). “By the way, now that I’m… you know…”

“Gay, Eren. Say it. That’s so fucking rude at this point if you don’t say it.”

“Gay. Now that I’m gay… is the bet still on?”

He looked right, then left, twisting his face into the most incredulous expression he could muster. “Um, _yes_. Consider the stakes higher if nothing else.”

We were still under the influence of the Kevin Smith movie we’d watched, and so I was feeling rather open. “Well, if that’s the case, I’ll have you know that he’s already asked if I wanted to.”

“Really?” He didn’t believe me. “Bullshit.” He rejected it. “Really?” He reconsidered.

I nodded, lips fluttering into a smile as I thought about my life on the other side of all the crap. “Yeah. I said no. I mean, I said no for now.”

Jean stomped on the floor and laughed. “Why would you—what—?! Okay, I’m really happy where I currently am, but Tirne des Ailes both in and out of drag is a sweet piece; what are you, high?”

“No, I just remembered the other part of the bet. That I have to prove he likes me.”

Jean started to nod slowly. A smile spread across his face. One hand in pocket, he shoved a fist gently at my shoulder. “You’re good people, Eren. Sorry I give you crap for your attitude, but you deserve it.”

“We can’t all be like you,” I noted. He laughed at it, but understood the subtle insult that it was.

Wagging his finger at me, he turned the gesture into a wave. “See ya. I’ll take care of Armin for a while.”

I sucked in a deep breath, remembering everything again. “Thank you.”

“Try not to suck any dicks on the way to the car!”

Mikasa and I didn’t really talk during the drive. She said she loved me, once, in a way that was oddly disconnected from everything else going on, and I said it back. “My arms are killing me. I going right into the tub when we get home,” she added, and that was it.

It was just past 9:00. I asked her to drop me off at the donut shop if Levi was still there, if he’d been there that night at all. Luckily, the Camaro was still parked outside when we passed. As I hopped out of the car, senses reeling that I might be able to salvage some of the day after all, she shouted as loud as she could, “Be good!”

Levi was smoking against the door of his car, fitting in one more cigarette before he drove home. Of course he heard it. “Aye-aye, Mikasa,” he lifted an eyebrow and smirked when I got closer.

“Hey,” I said sheepishly.

“Hey. I was wondering why I hadn’t seen you in a couple of days. Thought I’d scared you off.”

“Nah. No. Not at all,” I answered, stepping closer. Awkwardly, I just stood there. “It’s just been a really bad day.”

“Well…” He sucked one last drag off the cigarette and toed it out in the gravel. “Wanna get lost for a while? You can tell me about it.”   

“Yeah.”

His apartment was on the second floor in a recently built complex between neighborhoods, not quite income-based but also obviously not part of the luxury offerings. It was nice. It was small. It was Spartan. Of course, it was also spotless. He invited me in, removed his shoes at the door, and apologized for not having a couch or a table or anywhere to sit. There were two bean bag chairs situated in front of the TV in the living area. “It’s fine,” I said, and accepted a seat. 

He poured himself a Scotch on the rocks and offered me a bit as well. “Might as well start you drinking.” I told him to take it easy, since I didn’t exactly like the idea of facing a hangover on a school day, and he brought over a lowball glass with two fingers of dark brown Scotch.

“You sip it,” he instructed me. “This is supposed to last you an hour or two. So taking it easy is up to you.”

I taste tested it, and nearly vomited. I kept the knee-jerk reaction at bay, though, and thanked him. Then I remembered, even if I did have a hangover, it wouldn’t matter. I wasn’t going to school the next morning.

“So what sort of day have you had?” He looked like a black spot in the middle of his plain beige and white living room, wearing the same leather pants I’d seen him in on the first day we met. I wanted to just crawl over and settle on top of him, wrap myself into those limbs and not talk about it. Talking about It, though, would probably help.

“My friend’s car got vandalized,” I mentioned first. “I got suspended because we beat up the shitheads who did it. Well, Mikasa and I did that.”

“Vandalized? That’s shitty. Like what, they keyed his car or something?”

“No, they painted stuff all over it.”

“What? That seems pretty excessive. Good on you for beating them up. What the hell did he do to them? What sort of stuff did they paint?”

I paused. “Like, ‘die faggot’. That sort of stuff.”

Levi went silent and stopped swirling his glass. Just like I’d seen from Jean, wisdom glazed his eyes as he processed it. Finally saying it out loud made me remember how scared I was. For Armin, for myself. For the rest of my life.

I felt tears stinging my eyes before I could stop them. Not wanting to cry in front of Levi, I shoved my wrists against my face and growled gently. “Hey, I know you don’t like kissing, but… how about just…”

He was there before I could say anything else, sighing with the weight of the world behind it, smelling like clove cigarettes and laundry detergent. He slid into the space next to me, and draped his arm around my shoulders. I leaned my face into his chest and let a few of the tears go as he wrapped the other arm around to cage me there.      

“Sweet little baby gay, now you know why I started taking every drug I could get my hands on.” I’d never expected to hear what he said next. “I’m sorry.”

I wiped my nose on my wrist, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate that on his shirt, and glared. “I feel like shit because Armin doesn’t deserve that.”

“Neither do you. No one does. People are evil and horrible, and it’s always going to be that way. At least it was only a gesture.” He smoothed my hair back, more thoughtfully than I would have imagined, and went on. “Now, here’s the thing I want you to understand above anything else: no one else is going to save you, or take care of you. Having a community is not having a posse. It’s having a safe place to come to cope. But you have to survive on your own.”

I felt like I’d already heard the same thing from Jean, but the burden of responsibility behind it just made me seize up and want to cry again. Tears leaked out, as hard as I tried to keep them back.

“And you can cry. Fucking cry,” he ordered me, wiping the wetness from my cheeks with a swipe of his thumb. He looked stern. This was impossible to ignore. “Cry a lot. Cry your little fag heart out, because it fucking _hurts_.”

I opened my mouth and actually sobbed, hiding my face in his t-shirt regardless when I finally let go. Levi kept holding on. “Just know there’s somewhere to go. There are people who love you, and that’s really powerful. Sure, they’re dramatic and back-stabbing and they lie and cheat just as much as anyone else, but the amazing part is that they know. We know. You’re probably thinking that all you gained right now from your bravery is a suspension and a fucked-up face, but let me tell you something: you and your friend just got the biggest, most unconditional family ever.”

I thought about it as much as I dared to. I breathed hard a few times and stopped crying because I knew I had to tell him. “My mom died. My dad ignores us. I don’t really… I don’t really have a family.”

“I just told you, yes you do.” He wasn’t insistent about it, but the suggestion was easy enough. He added, after a pause, “How did your mom die?”

“Cancer.”

He gave it the moment of silence it deserved. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It happened really quickly.”

“That’s even worse.” Levi was not the sort to sugar-coat the truth. It really was worse. I’d watched her die from the inside out. We couldn’t afford the treatment she needed at that stage. “But I can assure you, no matter where you go and what you do, you have a support system. You just have to find it.”

I finally caught a deep breath, and relaxed. “Thanks.”

We were quiet for a long time, which I was perfectly content to be. By the time I was finally matching Levi’s breathing pattern, three sips deeper into my glass of scotch, I said, “Erwin suspended me. He’s the one who handled the whole thing.”

Levi nodded, his expression thin and unreadable. “Hope he’s proud of himself for that.”

“You’re right, what you said about him. He’s very cold.”

“He’s so far in the closet he has his own garment bag,” Levi quipped bitterly. I couldn’t help exploding with laughter, delighted that it felt comfortable to do so.

“There’s nothing better you could be doing tonight, is there?” I asked, because I hate guessing whether people want to be around me and I’m awful at reading social cues.

He thought for a moment; less than that, actually. “Nope. Absolutely nothing.”

“You don’t mind that I’m just a kid?”

“You’re not just a kid,” he said quietly, like he was reprimanding me for even saying it. “You’re just young. But you’ve already had to do a lot more growing up than most of these brats.”

I tilted my head back against his shoulder. He was smaller than me, yes, but I liked the feeling of being held in that particular situation.

“But I still get to call you kid,” he said, and leaned his head in to nuzzle my hair almost tenderly. “Kid.”

I was perfectly happy with that answer. At least there was something about the day that I was happy with.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is some Levi POV, but instead of being 7.5 it’s 8.5 is that okay? And while there is a very awesome (I hope) and gratifying (I hope) Ereri ending to this chapter, this is also heavy on the Eruri because IT’S LEVI’S POV and heeeeeey. Also I ship Eruri and Ereri both so, why don’t we have both? Hey. Why don’t we. Both. Yes. This chapterette, yes. Both. Shhhh don’t tell me which you like better because I love them both and don’t ask how the story will end, up it’s pretty obvious Levi can’t end up with Erwin that’s just balls-out impossible so trust me. Let’s take a ride together wheee. <3

_Levi_

I listened to George Michael and came extremely close to crying, then hated myself for it, because there is nothing more embarrassing than crying to a George Michael song, even when that song is “Father Figure” and the lyrics hit painfully close to home. It was 5 o’clock in the morning, though, and I was under the influence of whiskey. That may help to explain it. Not _too much_ whiskey, mind you, but just enough to peel back some layers. Whiskey puffs my emotions up like a boiled lobster and the shell has no choice but to pop right open over all of that bullshit. Vodka doesn’t do that. Neither does beer. I only drink whiskey at home for that very reason.

Eren—the brat, the kid, the little lamprey I’d somehow come to tolerate – fell asleep in the beanbag chair in my living room sometime around midnight. I stayed there for some time with the television on, watching 120 Minutes followed by reruns of the Golden Girls, until he muttered something in his sleep and turned unconsciously away from me. It was sort of a relief; it hadn’t felt right to let him go until he let go himself. The downside was that I was under the influence of just enough whiskey, and when Eren flipped onto his side half of his t-shirt got caught in the twist.

Usually I’m not one for younger guys. The simple look of him wasn’t entirely appealing to me, either. I had two set types – those who could throw me over one shoulder and make me feel like a pretty little glove that barely fit, or fragile, graceful ladyboys with more bone than skin. I liked extremes. Eren fell somewhere comfortably but boringly between all of them. Touching him on the occasions I’d been allowed, I couldn’t deny he was strong, and taking a closer look at him now that I gave a damn, I couldn’t deny he was attractive, but the fact remained that he was simply average.

Something about the way he cried was endearing, and I gritted my teeth through that feeling while I anointed my own weakness in platitudes and practiced advice. Pity is an incredibly terrible reason to want to bone someone. But it blended together with Scotch and the sight of his bare skin; abdomen surprisingly defined (probably a natural blessing), and jeans pulled low enough in the relaxed position that a delicious little hipbone jutted out.

I remembered that I’d offered to fuck him. I let my mind wander to what I’d been thinking, and realized that what I’d been thinking had been pretty goddamn incredible. My throat barely suppressed a frustrated whine at the idea of a tight virgin ass as vessel for a kid who looked at me like he practically worshipped me. My creativity peaks after midnight, so I was privy to all the lurid machinations of my uncensored mind, unable to resist running a single finger down the middle of Eren’s back to the spot where his jeans interrupted me. His skin was soft, it was hot.

But I’m making inroads toward not being a complete asshole, so I stood up against the protests of my growing boner before I thought too much about how perfect it would be to just pull his ass against my hips and wake him up with a suggestion he couldn’t refuse.

I didn’t turn the lights on when I stumbled to my bed, but I closed my eyes anyway while I took matters into my own hands. The fact that Eren was pure speculation made my mind wander to other, more well-known areas. I shoved my pants off and let them hang around one ankle, spread my knees and brought both feet up onto the mattress, because I like feeling like an exhibit. I like the feeling of being looked at, even when I’m not being looked at. I didn’t just want someone who looked at me like he worshipped me. I wanted to be desired furiously, by a man possessed by the sort of reckless lust that makes him disappear for weeks at a time, spend thousands of dollars, and risk losing his job just for the privilege of fucking me. A man who knew how to use what he had, who didn’t need to be taught a damn thing except perhaps how not to break a heart.

I’d never had it as good as I had it from him. I hissed into the darkness and my cock felt tighter at the thought, at the memory of how he used to bait me into my wildest moments, taunting me from the unfeeling place I’d learned to inhabit for the purpose of sexual recreation. Losing hope in the chivalric ideal of Erwin Smith did not abate my basest cravings. If anything, losing him as a savior made me see him even more clearly as a lover, as a man willing to cheat on his wife and lie just to satisfy the urge to take me for everything my body had in the moments that we found each other.

I slowed my strokes on those memories, moaning deep in my throat and lifting my feet, remembering. The first time he approached me at the Bent Ducat, he’d already seen me eyeing him for at least three nights prior. He passed me at the bar and ran the tips of his fingers up the back of my neck, teasing the edges of my longer hair. After I had significant time to react, he leaned in to ask me, “Do you mind me touching you?”

Being the way I am, I just looked at him, tried to judge his character by the glimmer in his pretty blue eyes, and said, “I’m ready,” before finishing my vodka and tonic.

I certainly was not ready. I led him to the back of the club, where I would lead him several more times as the weeks wore on, into the small labyrinth of dressing rooms, nooks, and crannies only occupied occasionally by the staff and those on the inside. Immediately – and this is a strange thing if you’ve ever experienced it – it was like we knew each other. Sexually, we must have been made from complementary molds, both mental and physical. He slammed me into a wall, knowing that was exactly what I wanted. When I gasped, he kissed me before I could even finish the breath.

The way we kissed, angry and hungry and possessed by demons we didn’t name, made me never want to kiss anyone again. That’s the part I didn’t tell Eren, when I laid the ground rules. I didn’t have to ask Erwin much – at first, definitely not, and really not ever – to know how to move and where to go and what he wanted. I dropped my pants and made a whorish show of slobbering all over my fingers before sticking them into my ass, priming myself only as much as I could stand before I had to have him.

I cried openly and bit my knuckle, before I decided to just gnaw on his neck to gird myself against the pain. It was the deep-dicking equivalent of a ludicrous coke hit. My eyes rolled toward the back of my head and I growled once I was used to the feeling, trying to gain some rhythm against his raw power, some traction against his sheer size.

My main expectation, with my legs dangling uselessly as he held me against the wall, was that it would be over and done, and I’d leave with the memory of a great fuck, a great cock and little more. Then he asked me, more tenderly than I’d ever imagined, so unexpectedly it almost gave me whiplash, “Do you feel good?”

Those are the parts that stick with me. That’s what makes it unbearable, agony in retrospect. Days and weeks, beyond that first time, of Erwin taking special care to facilitate _my_ pleasure, despite the fact that I thought I already had exactly what I wanted. I considered the word “lover” and it turned into a tidal wave of emotion, because I realized only once we were in the same bed that I’d never truly had one before.    

Confusing feelings and regrets and anger only bubbled beneath the surface most of the time, though. I remembered his mouth drawing unholy glory from me as he worked my cock and my ass, I remembered feeling his come inside of me, his dick inside of me, ensuring I came in every way possible before he was content to stop. Sometimes we even kept going after that.

I felt like breaking the waves when I started to seize, thumbing the tip of my cock to make sure I came on my stomach. Even with such care, I shot halfway up my chest, rendering my shirt another victim for the laundry hamper. “Shit,” I muttered, but it wasn’t in disappointment.

I recovered quickly. I always did, if I was alone. Wallowing in the afterglow of self-gratification was never my style. I pulled my pants up and began a load of laundry immediately. The creativity usually started to ebb around dawn. I’d already wasted it on a fantasy that was half remembered reality, so the only thing left to do was clean. That’s when I put the music on. That’s when George Michael hit me like a ton of bricks, and I hurried to change the tape to something less evocative before I thoroughly ruined my own evening with too many feelings.

I was changing tapes when I heard the noise in the living room. Subtle, but definite. I’d actually managed to forget Eren was there, which was probably a good thing. My mind hadn’t shifted much in its fixation, though. I didn’t even have time to start listening to another song before I left my Walkman on top of the dryer and walked back in to see him blinking awake with a confused look on his face.

“Did I…” He started to speak before he even knew I was in the room. His eyes scanned the place as they started to focus, and he still hadn’t pulled his shirt down. His hair was sticking out oddly on one side, his cheeks were pink from being pressed into the beanbag chair. An angelic little vision in my hard-earned apartment, really. I’d studied him rather thoroughly by the time he looked up at me.

Maybe he wanted to ask if he’d fallen asleep. Maybe he wanted to ask what time it was, or whether he could make a phone call to let his sister know where he was. Any number of things, really, until he noticed I was shirtless. It was like I could pinpoint the moment his throat went dry and he decided to keep his mouth shut.    

How many men had he looked at sexually, since coming to terms with the fact that he’d been doing it subconsciously for years? I wondered if I was patient zero, and if this was his worryingly naïve little heart’s first experience being alone with a man who wanted him.

I knew it was true, and I knew what I had to do. Waiting on Eren was not an option. He wasn’t the white knight with a jaw-dropping body giving suggestive touches at a bar, but he was something much more powerful than that. He was still _okay_. He wasn’t a scrap and build boy, hardened and broken, salvageable at best. He wasn’t like me.

It made me want him so much that I knew I couldn’t fuck it up by speaking. But I also knew that the standard protocol required me to mark my territory. I was going to work on him. I was going to make sure this went right for him. Maybe I didn’t have a white knight, but it’s strange the way things get placed in your path. There was still something to be good for.

I wanted him to know that I intended to work on him.  

“What time is it?” Eren asked me after several moments, moving as he did to untwist his shirt and pull it back over his stomach. I mourned silently.

“Early.”

Again, he stopped himself just short of saying something. I could see his eyes sweeping me, resting on my face then wandering again. Clearing his throat gave him a moment to think. I made a resolution then; if he started with “I’m sorry”, I needed to do something differently. If he didn’t, well… then we would talk.

“I’m sorry I—“

“Shut up.”

He probably thought he was in trouble for some reason, the way his shoulders fell and his face softened into something abject and expectant. I blinked slowly and allowed myself a chance to reconsider what my instincts told me to do.

I didn’t reconsider.

“Um—“ Eren started when I bent down. I set my hands on either side of him, leaning close, putting my knees between his legs. “Um.” It was all he could say. Kissing him crossed my mind, but it would have been insincere at that particular moment. I hovered my lips as close to his mouth as I dared, and I waited to see if he would take the bait. But Eren was, despite all of his posturing, his walls, his facades that crumbled the moment someone called him out on them, a good boy.

There wasn’t much to reading him. I didn’t know his story completely, but he’d already shown me what was most important. The rest of the pieces would fit as necessary. My hand found a fluttering heartbeat when I touched his chest, and the throb only got stronger when I nudged his chin aside to kiss his neck.    

Tasting people was still something that appealed to me. From the most nuanced conversational flavors to the literal sense of getting someone’s skin beneath my teeth, I found that I could usually predict rather accurately what a man was all about by the way he tasted.

Eren was the nervous sweat of a teenage boy, the toughness of a man before his time mixed with the pure sweetness of something untouched. I sucked hard on his neck, completely intending to leave a spotty red mark that would bloom toward the middle of the day, and continued to kiss past the fabric of his shirt collar. “Nnn?” He started, any words stunted by rather obvious excitement. He was breathing hard, and I could feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath my kisses, the quiver of his tight stomach as I ran my fingers over it in a subtle test.

“Are you—?“ He started to ask a question that was so obvious, and thank goodness he stopped himself. I couldn’t have resisted breaking character with a comment about his lack of perception. Then again, I shut him up by looking at him from the break between his shirt and his waistband, stretched like a cat between legs that had definitely spread further apart since I’d been there.

My glare was a confirmation, and the twitch of an eyebrow was asking permission. Eren didn’t stop me. He squirmed and gulped, and his lips moved just a little bit, but whatever he wanted to say wasn’t as important as what his body was already telling me.

I kept watching him while I slipped my hand between his legs, knowing his eyes would close. They did, and I took the opportunity to smile as he let go of a shaky, half-confident moan. He was already a thick ridge of hardness beneath my hand, testament to how much he wanted me and how easily I’d exacerbated that. Without the instruction, he relaxed and leaned back, making and grabbing handles from the formless bean bag chair.

My lips opened wide around him while he was still trapped in his jeans, and I tongued the fabric liberally, torturing him with that until he was writhing, pushing his hips alternately toward me and as deep into his seat as possible.

I interrupted the latest in a series of pleading, whining groans and reached for his fly.

We were on a time limit. This was only a preview for him. I pulled his pants down only as far as I had to so I could see his cock spring free and settle into a proud curve toward his belly, hard as a lead pipe and pretty as the sort of perverted postcard I would appreciate.

Expecting to give a horny and emotionally frustrated 16 year old his first blow job and draw out the process would be idiotic. Instead, I threw in all my favorite tricks immediately and let Eren’s body choose which one would send him over the edge. I held him in my hand and gave him a few firm strokes to get him used to the feeling before I laid kisses on the underside of his cock. My lips moved thoroughly from balls to head, energized by the fact that I hadn’t felt someone react so freely in years.       

“Levi…” He gasped my name, probably intending to say it louder, but somehow that whisper of intimation was even better. I rewarded him with an exacting, ice cream cone lick to the tip of his cock, and my peripheral vision caught his hand clutching the bean bag chair tightly, desperately.   

Eren surged against my mouth with an emphatic moan, and I could tell from that moment that his potential was enormous. He had the capacity to control, to dominate the proceedings. As it was, he was the pupil. All good things in time.

I reached over and grabbed his hand, wrested it from its shaky grip and dropped it on top of my head. I couldn’t see his face as he received the hint, but he took it with a gasp and spread his fingers tentatively into my hair.

I slid my lips over his cock, catching the tip in my mouth and sucking. The bitter taste of precome electrified me from there, and I went further, sucked harder, listened to Eren panting in time with my rhythm, telling me by the way his fingers tightened on my head that I was a fantastic teacher.

“Ah--!” He didn’t need to be guided up to and through the moment of release; it snuck up on him and he was holding me fast to his cock before he could have warned me. I didn’t mind at all. “Oh, God. Oh, _God…”_ I sucked on him as he came, swallowing, concentrating on giving him something to remember, something to return for.    

His breath reached a high, shaky pitch by the time I knew he’d (finally) given me everything he had, determined as I’d been to keep coaxing it out of him. “Stop,” he told me with a worrying tone, “oh my God, stop.”

He was still hard and tender when I pulled my mouth off, too tender to process the continued stimulation. His free wrist was thrown over his face but I reached up to pull it away. His cheeks were flushed. His face was perfect.

What possessed me to say what I said next? I knew, but just like a lot of my demons, I didn’t want to give it a name. “Do you feel good?”

He nodded at me weakly, and I responded with a strange little self-satisfied noise from the back of my throat where I could still taste him. “Good,” I said.

I stood up, looked around my apartment, and ignored my own burgeoning erection.

Wiping a thumb on the corner of my mouth, I turned to Eren. “We should take you home.”

I left the room to find a shirt before he could say something stupid like “thank you.”

 

    


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the natural flow of the story. Teenagers being teenagers, cuties being cuties, Levi being Levi. 
> 
> Can I get a wut-wut for the potential Jean/Armin chapterette that will follow this one if I post it at all, because my brain is gonna need a shove to rework this thing before I'm ready to showcase it and I really want them to get a moment to shine. Now's the time, too. :P 
> 
> Again, wow, dang, golly, gee-whiz thanks everyone for reading and spreading the word and generally just being here. This is overwhelming, I suppose I'm burdened with glorious purpose now??

I watched him walk away and got an eyeful of his tattoo, forced myself to calm down until my dick got soft enough to comfortably tuck back into my pants, and leaned anxiously against the wall until Levi returned.

“I like your tattoo,” I told him, casually avoiding the subject of what he’d just done to me.

“Thanks,” he grabbed his wallet and shoved it into his back pocket, twisting slightly to hook the chain onto the appropriate loop while I kept talking.

“What’s it supposed to mean?” That was a dumb way to put it. I sighed and rephrased the question. “I mean, I know they’re wings. But they’re two different wings. What does that mean?”

Levi sighed and shrugged. “There’s this quote I really love, it goes ‘ _we are each angels with one wing, and we can only fly by embracing each other.’_ I knew I wanted to have wings, but I mentioned that quote when my friend was designing the piece, and this is what he came up with. I love it.” He took a few moments, didn’t look at me, and I saw a hint of a wistful look on his face. “I guess it’s even more poignant since I can never see it myself.”  

I followed him when he made for the door, and once we were on the landing I finally put together what I wanted to say, in words that didn’t sound utterly lame. “I’d think you were actually a romantic, with that quote.”

“I am a romantic,” Levi snapped back, glancing at me over his shoulder for a split second as we took the stairs. “That’s another good quote, ‘ _scratch a cynic, find a romantic’.”_

“Who said that?”

“Everyone over the age of 20. Romanticism is probably the most hardcore ideal you can subscribe to. Hey, look, the sun’s coming up.” He paused in the middle of the parking lot and I nearly ran into him. I doubled back to keep my cool, and looked out at the scenery with him. His apartment complex was situated in such a way that he faced the hills in the East, and sure enough I could see the sun peeking out over the ridge.

It was strangely beautiful; really calm, really peaceful with no one else in the lot and the world totally quiet. But then, everything felt especially profound after what had just happened.

“Let’s go,” he said without another comment, and turned to the car.

I studied the way he took to get from his place back to mine, finding it a nice distraction from letting my mind wander too far on our interactions.

“Do you have a pen?” He asked out of nowhere once we were on the city’s main thoroughfare.

“What? Yeah. Why?” I still had my backpack, after all.

“I want you to have my phone number. Just, you know…” He hesitated and then harrumphed to himself. “I mean, don’t call me for no reason, but if you need to… you know.”

Was he _worried_ about me? Had yesterday’s incident sparked a side of Levi that I wouldn’t have predicted existing in a million years? It nearly made me smile, but I just cleared my throat and pulled out a notebook and a pen. “Sure. Go ahead.”

He gave me his number, and I wrote it on the front inside cover of my English notebook with no context or label. I looked at it once I had, and couldn’t help the fact that my heart flip-flopped a little.

“Hey,” he interrupted my fleeting brush with romanticism.

“What.”

“What do you like about me? Be honest, what could you possible like about me?”

I tucked the notebook into my backpack and narrowed my eyes at Levi. “Are you insecure or something?”

“Kid, if anyone in this world _isn’t_ insecure, they’re a sociopath.”

I still didn’t know what to say. _Your legs. The way you look at me like you want to eat me and then look at me like you want to figure me out, within the same seconds. That first time you told me to shut the fuck up. The shape of your face. The fact that you sucked my dick._

“You have to be wondering the same thing,” he said bluntly.

“Hey!”

Levi just shrugged. I looked back out the window and answered him finally. “I mean, I really don’t know anything about you still.”

He scoffed, more than a little offended. “Are you kidding? I poured out my heart to you, and—“

“That’s things that happened to you!” I countered immediately. I wasn’t so enchanted that I still wouldn’t cut him off or raise my voice. “You told me things that happened to you, but there’s still so little to go on.”

“Then why do you like me?” He made it sound like an ultimatum, and I began to sweat. Like if I didn’t have an adequate answer, that was it. Game over. Do not pass Go, do not collect further blowjobs.

“Because you’re honest and you’re hot.” I answered sharply, then screwed my eyes shut and growled. I knew it was probably the worst answer.

“Well.”

I couldn’t read his tone, but that was nothing new. My brain jumped back to the fact that he’d already given me his phone number. That was a step, right? Was this just a test to make sure I deserved it, or was I reading too much into things?

We turned onto my street. “I tried to go back to school and get my GED, but I fucked that up because, obviously, I was strung out. I test at genius level every time I focus, but no one will think of me as anything but a fuck-up as long as I don’t do it the way it’s supposed to be done. I broke into my neighbor’s house when I was nine years old to steal a TV. Just to see if I could do it. I had a gun pointed me. I legitimately thought he was going to pull the trigger. Maybe those are still things that just _happened_ to me, but maybe those things give you an idea of why I don’t talk about my feelings much.”

I nodded, feeling humbled, feeling a little humiliated. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Yeah, you’ve been through some shit too.”

“Nothing like that.”

“It doesn’t matter. Once you’ve decided that your heart is more important to you than other people are, it’s tough to change it. You get that, right?”

I nodded.

“Don’t think people always drift into these streams of interaction, like you’ve been taught all your life because movies and books say so. It’s a lot… different from that.” He slowed to a stop in front of my house. I wanted to say I knew what he meant, but I also knew that the very point of everything he said was showing me how much I _didn’t_ know.

I stared at the driveway. Something looked different, but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to process it. I wondered if Mikasa was worried about me. I’d give her Levi’s number, too. I didn’t have to tell him.

“If it matters,” he said, throwing the car into park and sighing loudly, “I like you because your body is honest.”

“What?” I turned back and maybe looked a little harsh when he said it. Was that a sexual comment? I wasn’t sure whether I minded.

He rolled his eyes halfway and tilted his head toward me. “When you lie or exaggerate, it’s all over you. You’re cute because you’re incapable of deceiving anyone, really. You’re transparent.” He paused. He didn’t want to say anything else, I could tell, but he did. “And your eyes are beautiful.”

I didn’t know whether to be insulted. I prided myself on my bluffing capabilities. Maybe I just made it a point to exercise it around people far less sharp than Levi. The remark about my eyes made everything else null and void, though. I glanced aside, throat a little dry all of a sudden. “Thanks…” I leaned back in my seat.

“Look at me,” he said.

“That was sort of embarrassing, I don’t—“

“Come here, you fucking brat, I’m trying to give you a goodbye kiss.”

My heart leapt up into my throat. I nodded and leaned forward awkwardly. I thought he hated kissing. Maybe I’d blown that remark out of proportion in my own mind.

“Don’t worry, I brushed my teeth,” he said softly, just before our lips pursed together and I felt his hand slide over my shoulder and up into my hair. It’s like that was a cue to open my mouth, to try and pry his lips apart with mine.

Our tongues barely touched before he pulled away, and pressed his lips instead next to my ear. “Your cock’s really pretty, too.”

I breathed out hard through my nose and wondered if I would ever stop being excited by every little thing he did, said, suggested. My hand grappled backwards for the door handle, and I managed to stumble out of the car and up the walkway after the requisite goodbyes.   

“I’m home,” I said as I entered, but very softly. Mikasa had drawn the blinds to drown the whole house in an artificial darkness. The television was on, though, at a very low volume. I stepped over to one of the tables in the living room, kicking aside a stray pillow as I did, and turned a lamp on.

Mikasa was wrapped in an afghan on the couch. I quickly turned the lamp off again before I woke her. She did that occasionally, falling asleep in the living room by the light of the television. I had no idea whether it was my fault or not, so I didn’t want to presume she’d fallen asleep while waiting on me. I wove between the couch and the coffee table, and took a seat on the edge, in the spot left by the crook of her knees.

My mind went sort of fuzzy and blank as I noticed the stack of cash, and the note on the coffee table. “Aww, shit…” I muttered, and reached in to pick it up. As soon as I touched it, my head went up and I switched to high alert mode, scanning the room for anyone else.

“He left this morning,” Mikasa muttered, and when I turned to look at her she was glancing up at me from above the line of the afghan’s fringe. “I got into a fight with him and he left. He put a battery in the station wagon. You can drive it again. He also paid the cable bill, finally.”

I licked my lips, realizing they were suddenly dry, and my shoulders relaxed.

No one knew what my dad did, really. Maybe at one point it had been honest, but only mom could have told us that. Maybe his honest work had only been for mom’s sake. I remembered hearing, when I was little, that he was a doctor. Then I learned that doctors made more money than I’d ever seen in my life, and I started to realize I was being lied to. When mom got sick and he couldn’t do anything about it, then I knew for sure. Mikasa figured he was a con man. I didn’t really care to think about him enough to develop my own theory.

“He was here when I got home. He’s pissed at us for getting suspended. I tried to explain what happened and he just… he tried to act all righteous and shit, and I swear to god, Eren, I should have hit him. I should have just hit him.”

“No, it’s good that you just let him leave.”

She sighed deeply. “He left us money for the month. I’m so tempted to go and buy a stereo, then go to Child Services while I’m still 17.”

“Hn.”

“I’m not going to, of course.”

We talked about it, on occasion. Going to Child Services and seeing what happened. But then we thought about the downside of that. The potential of foster homes. All sorts of bullshit we didn’t want to deal with. So we dealt with the negligence and learned to budget three hundred dollars a month, sometimes less.  

“What time is it?” She started to sit up, moving her legs around me lazily.

“Like, seven. I guess. Seven thirty?”

“Christ, it feels later than that.” Mikasa yawned and rubbed her eyes. “Where were you?”

I looked at her plainly for a second before answering. “At Levi’s.”

“No shit,” she chirped almost happily. “So what, did you get laid?”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. Not to my sister. “Um, no. Not really.”

She paused mid-stretch and smirked at me. “Congratulations.”

I made an uncomfortable noise and stood up, prompting her to laugh more fully. She kicked me lightly when I moved. “Not a bad way to inaugurate your suspension, is it?”

I just shrugged, and she went on. “What are you doing today, then? Any juvenile delinquent plans?”

“Don’t they, like, arrest you if you go out when you’re suspended?” I asked.

“On what grounds?” Mikasa snorted. She would know, I reminded myself. It had happened to her before. She got suspended for fighting in middle school. Twice. Both times, she’d been backing me up. If she wasn’t pulling down A’s in every class and making the school look good with her standardized test scores, no doubt she would have been labeled a discipline problem by now. No one had the guts to call her out, though. “I’m going to the mall as soon as it opens. Do you want breakfast?”

I was actually starving. “Yeah.”

“I feel like celebrating our delinquency. You want McDonald’s?”

The simple truth was that I always existed in a state of wanting McDonald’s. “Yes.”

So, we celebrated with pancake platters and coffee. We ate in silence, for the most part, because eating is always more important than talking. At one point, while I looked out the window and wondered if Armin had chosen to stay home for the day, Mikasa shocked me with a yelping laugh.

She clapped her hand over her mouth just as soon as she’d done it, and I snapped toward her with a glare. “He gave you a hickey,” she moved her hand aside to whisper.

“What’s a hickey?” I asked, leaning in further and squinting.

“You’re 16 years old,” she said flatly, reaching into her purse without taking her eyes off of me. “And you don’t know what a hickey is.”

“Can you please not make me feel like I’m an idiot?” I buried my face in my hands and shook it there, until Mikasa shoved something against my forehead. I looked up and grabbed the compact with a frustrated sigh.

“You are an idiot. That thing on your neck is a hickey,” she pointed and I held up the mirror, looking at my neck where she indicated. My eyes flashed wide at the red spot I saw.

“Oh.”

“You’re blushing.”

I closed the compact and shoved it at her. “Shut up!”

“It’s a good sign!” She laughed. “I mean, I’m not crazy about some dude marking up my little brother, but—“

“He’s not just some dude. You know him.” I interrupted her and sipped from my coffee way too fast, considering how hot it was.

“Yeah, it doesn’t mean I won’t kick his ass if he does you wrong.”

“I don’t know that even you could kick his ass,” I muttered, chewing on the edge of the cup’s plastic lid and glancing at Mikasa. “I mean that, he’s a pretty big badass.”

“I’d try.” She raised one eyebrow, like it was a challenge. I just shrugged. “I’m watching him. You tell him I’ve got my eye on him.”

“Tell him yourself.”

“I will!” She got up to throw away the remnants of her pancake platter.

We parted ways at the house, and I hopped into the station wagon for the first time in over a month. I got used to the feeling of it, the old naugahyde smell of it, the way I had to turn the ignition twice before it would start. I hated it, but it was a means of conveyance. My first stop was Armin’s. I didn’t even feel like giving him a warning phone call. That was one of the best parts of our friendship; we could just show up whenever we wanted, no arrangements needed. At the very least, I could volunteer to take the dog for a walk if he was sleeping in.

Armin and his grandfather lived in a moss-covered brick house on a corner lot; it was nicer than most of the houses in the neighborhood but still old and in obvious disrepair. When I knocked on the door I had to give it a few minutes, and then knock again. If Armin didn’t hear me, being so far back in the house, his grandfather usually took his time getting to the door. I heard the dog jumping against the door for almost a minute before human footsteps approached.

The old man pulled the door open, shushing the dog while he did. “Down, Rosie, down. Eren! Hello! You’re around early, aren’t you?”

“Good morning, Mr. Arlert. How’s it going?”

He was okay, for an old guy. He’d been in the army, in combat, and probably would have gone back if they’d let him. Even for all of that, he was probably the tenderest adult I knew. It was easy to see where Armin had learned his skills of diplomacy and empathy; his grandfather was the farthest thing from a judgmental person I’d ever met.

I fell to my knees and let the dog jump up in my face, feeling the instantaneous salve of canine affection ignite my good mood. “Oh, I’m just watching TV as usual. Come on in. Armin should be back in his room, but I can’t tell you he’s awake.”  

“I’ll go wake him up.” I laughed and breezed past him as he wobbled back into the living room. I chirped for Rosie to follow me. “Let’s go wake him up, huh, girl?”

I threw myself at Armin’s door and started beating on it with both fists, smiling as I did. “Wake up,” I droned, letting the movement make my voice vibrate.

“Oh my god,” I heard him groan after several seconds while he dragged himself to the door. I snickered and petted Rosie; she jumped up to put her paws on the door in imitation of me. “I’m coming!” Armin shouted over the noise I was making, and I was still laughing when he threw the door open.

Armin slept in sweaters; he was cold no matter what the temperature was outside, and to add to that his grandfather didn’t like to turn on the heat until it was nearly freezing. I didn’t recognize the one he was wearing currently, and the fact that it was a Trost High Titans sweater made me smirk as soon as I got an eyeful of his sleepy, ornery face.

“That’s not yours,” I said sing-song, poking him in the chest between the T and the A.

He rolled his eyes and yawned, throwing a leg behind me to keep Rosie out of his room as he closed the door. I walked over and fell into his desk chair, spinning once and drumming my hands on the armrests. “So you’re staying home from school today? I mean, obviously.”

After a short, affirmative noise that was barely more than a grunt, he sat on the bed and pulled his quilt back over his shoulders, bundling inside of it. He yawned and I looked at him, waiting for Armin to take the next initiative in the conversation.

“I fucked Jean,” he said on the wide open end of his yawn, and blinked at me blearily.

“Levi blew me,” I replied just as matter-of-factly.

We were nervously silent for a few minutes. I started to pull on the same string that had come loose on his chair’s armrest years ago. “Maybe…” He started softly, reaching over to check his watch and attach it to his wrist. “Maybe we should… go to the office more often?”

It was not as funny as I made it out to be, laughing before I realized that I couldn’t possibly be asked to stop. Armin joined me, and by the time he fell back onto his mattress and kicked at the air, all memory of yesterday’s traumatic events was forgotten for a bit. 

“So how was that?” I asked, willing to trade hearing his details if it meant I could give my own. Suddenly I understood Armin’s enthusiasm a lot more.

“Uh, _amazing_. Incredible. Uh, it was… it was good.” He laughed and buried his face in his hands, then nodded firmly several times, smile still plastered on thick. “Really, really good.”

“How long did you last?”

“Oh! Oh, since you _ask_ , like two minutes! Jerk.” He laughed and hid his face once more, reaching out to smack me. “No, for real, it didn’t take long at all, but there was a lot of prep, if you know what I mean.”

“Okay, fine, I’m going to say something I never would have been able to say before, and even now it sort of makes me uncomfortable to say, but you’re my best friend and I have to say it because you won’t judge me too much…”

He sat back and gave me a strange half-smile, waiting for me to continue.

“Jean has a nice ass.”

“I _told_ you!” Armin came up off of the bed for a moment to shove at me with both hands, sending me rolling back in the chair until I hit his desk laughing. “I told you! God! Wow. I… oh, man, I don’t want to ever not be doing him now.”

I nodded like I had any idea about the memories he was processing, obsessing over. He got lost in his own little world, then, pulling at his bottom lip and looking out at nothing in particular. When he remembered he was in the same room as me, he glanced over and chuckled. “So… how about your little adventure?”

“Not yet. You’ve hardly told me anything. You need to share at least one detail.” I lifted an eyebrow, and Armin scoffed and threw a pillow at me.

“No I don’t!”

“Yes you do! What, you’ve been gung-ho about doing it up until now, suddenly you can’t?”

“I don’t know!” He was grinning but he was shrugging at me. “It’s just now it’s more… special, you know? Intimate, I don’t know.”

“Did you do it facing him, or from behind?”

He fell back onto the bed and covered his face, kicking the air again. “Stop! Oh my god, Eren, this is really weird all of a sudden!”

“It’s not weird, you’re just self-conscious!”

He popped back into a sitting position and pulled an incredulous face. “I told you about how I gagged on his dick. I’m not self-conscious. It’s just… it’s private.”

“You were facing him, weren’t you?”

With that, Armin cried out and snatched the pillow back from me.

“I was right!”

“How did you know?” He giggled furiously.

“Because you two are all, you know, you’re lovey-dovey like that. Speaking of which, have you said I Love You yet? Please tell me you have.”

“Yes,” he said softly, not looking at me, smiling. “Last week.”

“I didn’t know that.” It didn’t really bother me.

“I didn’t want to steal your thunder; you’d just confessed you were gay.”

“Well, I appreciate that.”

Armin nodded and shrugged again, awake at last but still a little lost in his memories.

I broke the ice again. “Does he have an ugly O face? I’ll bet he does.”  

“I swear to god, Eren…” Armin started threateningly, and pushed the sleeves of Jean’s sweater further up his arms, like he was ready to beat me down.

I took him for a drive in the station wagon and proceeded to tell him what had happened at Levi’s.

“You two are weird,” he said after he’d been sufficiently curious and supportive about it. We were headed to the mall, for no real reason other than to kill some time.

“What’s that supposed to mean? We are what we are.”

“I mean, it sounds like you’re good for each other! No offense, but I couldn’t really see you rolling up to someone’s house to pick them up for a date, you know.”

I took no offense at all; he was right. “He says he’s a romantic, but he doesn’t act like it. He really doesn’t act like it.”

“It’s not weird that he’s so much older than you?”

I shrugged. I tried to really think about it. “No. Even if I’d met him when he was my age, we would’ve been so different that it wouldn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re that different at all.”

I pulled into the mall parking lot, decelerating in time with my thoughts, to give what Armin said time to sink in. “I mean…” I wanted to contradict it, but not really. “Maybe you’re right.”

“You seem happy.”

“Do I?”

“You seem _hopeful_ , I guess. Like, usually when your dad comes into town you wallow in that for days on end. I like this. Maybe he’s good for you.”

I just nodded, and asked Armin if he wanted to catch a movie while we were near the theater.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, okay. This chapter introduces conflict and I'm sorry. Let me get that out of the way now. But no light without darkness, right? RIGHT??? GUYS WHERE ARE YOU GOING???
> 
> I make a lot of song call-outs in this chapter, but I'm too lazy to make a mix and would rather you snake your way around YouTube if you're not acquainted with them, since the songs really help to set the mood (and the last one is practically a necessity, so... it's called "Alone", there I said it, go forth). Eh, I've come to terms with the fact that this fic is 50% dialogue and 40% atmospheric soundtrack (the other 10% is Levi's bodacious booty tbh). 
> 
> It's gonna be okay, guys. I promise it's going to be okay. We can get through this. Don't worry, I'm pretty attached too. 
> 
> I did give you some porn, though. Wheeeeee.

It turned into one of those days, after the movie and after Armin went back home for a nap, that found me sprawled on the bed closing one eye and then the other just to see what alternately came into focus. I had reading to do, I had papers to write, and I definitely had a history book to crack open, but my only thoughts regarding school were of the “fuck you” variety.

“There’s a Seinfeld marathon on,” Mikasa poked her head into my room to mention.

“Ugh, I hate Seinfeld.” I sat up, at least. It was a step.

Mikasa kept staring at me from the doorframe, looking just as bored as I was.

“What?” I asked.

She just belched, without taking her eyes off me. “We’re also out of soda; go to the store.” Then, she started laughing and ducked away before I could throw the nearest pillow at her.

“I’m not going to the store; I just want to lay here!”

“Go visit your boyfriend!” She called from the hallway, voice muffled by distance. “Or is it all weird now?”

It wasn’t. At least it hadn’t been until she mentioned it. Until she’d used the word “boyfriend” and I started to actually think about that term, what it meant, and how it could never really apply to me and Levi. Even for Jean and Armin, the label had been dicey until recent weeks. Surely, my 25-year-old drag queen sex buddy and sometime friend couldn’t be categorized as anything particularly.

I sort of wanted to figure it out, though, or at least pretend like everything was still normal. Again, maybe it was. I was still obsessing over the feeling of his lips on mine, after he’d essentially told me not to kiss him. I assumed that I was just overthinking things and headed to the donut shop shortly after 3:00.

It was, to both my relief and my continued tension, like nothing had even happened. I noticed that Levi’s hair was freshly trimmed, and that his fingernails were painted black. I said nothing about either of those things, and our banter boiled down to my choice of clothing.

“Is that really a Hypercolor shirt?”

“I guess so,” I replied, pulling out the shirt to check it. Levi looked momentarily disgusted. “Hey, listen, I have to take what I can get when it comes to clothes!”

“Do you own pleated jeans?”

I hesitated. “Yes,” I finally mumbled.

He just sighed, obviously disappointed. To be fair, even I was disappointed in my pleated jeans. “Come by my place later, I’m going to give you some things.” 

“Clothes?” I asked, still hesitating at the window with my order in hand.

I could see the smirk threatening to take over his face. “More than that, if you play your cards right.”

In one of those extremely unfortunate cases of timing, a fat man walked up behind me with donuts on his mind, and I had to cut our interaction short.

The shop got unexpectedly busy, and I didn’t have a chance to ask Levi what time I should head over. I assumed sometime after 9:00 and went with it, trying to seem as casual as possible while I frittered around the house and watched an episode or two of Seinfeld with Mikasa.

It was coming up on 8:30 when she mentioned, “Oh, by the way, Annie’s on her way over.”

“Nice! Did you care to tell me that sooner, or…?”

“You don’t have to leave, dingleberry, we’ll probably just watch TV and order a pizza. You can hang out.” She clicked her tongue at me and added, “God.”

I shrugged. “I’m going out in a little while anyway. I’ll stay out of your hair.”

She reached over and pulled at my hair. “Speaking of which, you need a haircut.”

I swatted her arm away and gave into her taunt, trying to pull her hair right back while she pushed firmly against my face. “ _You_ need a haircut!” Was the best comeback I could manage.

When we finally calmed down and I shoved myself into the far corner of the sofa with a growl, Mikasa smiled. “How long until you’re outta here?”

“I don’t know, an hour maybe?” I had been checking the clock nervously every two minutes. I tried to sound nonchalant and probably failed. “Why?”

She shrugged. “We were gonna smoke a bowl, wondered if you wanted in on that.”

I blinked at her several times. Mikasa’s face hardened in an odd way and her wrist went limp to match the expression. “Don’t you get judgey with me, Eren.”

“I’ve never—“

“Trust me, I know. That’s why I was asking.”

I must have pulled a pretty condemning face as I pointed at her. “How long have you been—“

“Since I’ve been hanging out with Annie. Does it matter?”

“Uh, _yes_.”

“Oh, so I can beat asses and fuck people but I can’t smoke a little weed, I see how it is.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You implied it.”

“Mikasa, I don’t care what you do!” I threw my hands up. It was a lie. “But, like… _drugs_ …”

“…are awesome.” She finished for me.

I had to admit, I differed from her on that one. Granted, I’d never even gone so far as to take four Tylenol with a raging headache, I was so careful about things like that. I didn’t know enough about the difference between what Mikasa was doing and what Levi had spoken so cryptically about. I wanted to stay careful. That’s another one of those fine lines with being poor; when you tip the scales from being careful about everything, you tend to go all in on being reckless. I wanted to preserve what control I had over my life, and so I excused myself before Annie even showed up.

At least, I tried to. Mikasa grabbed my hand, and even as I snatched it away I hesitated to listen to what she had to say. “I kissed her,” she admitted.

My breath caught in my throat. “You what?”

“We…” She looked away like it was the first thing in her life that had ever caused her a moment of self-consciousness. “We sort of made out.”

I looked all around, worried more than ever to face Annie at that point. “I don’t get it, are you happy about that?”

“Wow! I don’t—“ She shrugged grandly. “I’m telling you because I have no idea! I don’t even know what’s going on, but I like her more than most people.”

“I was just kidding about you being a lesbian, you know.”

“Yeah, I know that! And I don’t think I am! I don’t even think she is – I mean, she said you were cute. But…” Her shoulders fell, indicating that she didn’t want to try and explain herself any further. “I just made a pact with myself to let you know who I like, so there it is. I’m not like you – I can’t figure things like this out in a day.”

“Maybe…” I muttered toward the wall. We weren’t looking at each other. “I mean, maybe that’s why you’re both trying it. Because you like each other. Maybe you don’t need to _figure it out_ , really. Maybe it’s just something that seems right for now.”

She was silent and I thought I’d said the wrong thing, until I glanced over and saw Mikasa’s face in profile start to nod. “Thanks,” she said, and shrugged again, throwing me a wan smile with her hair in the way. “So you’re gonna go out?”

“Yup.” I didn’t say I was getting hand-me-downs from a guy who looked like he probably had to shop at Gadzook’s for clothes that fit. I wasn’t even entirely convinced that’s why Levi had invited me over. I hoped that wasn’t why, at least. I wanted us to go out of our way to find stupid reasons to continue on the morning’s train of thought and action.

“Wrap it up!” She called after me, just barely obscuring her laughter once I’d already disappeared into the hallway. I didn’t have the energy to tell her that wasn’t exactly where things were headed. Not just yet.

Annie hadn’t even arrived by the time I left. I picked up the phone no less than three times, tempted to give Levi a call to announce that I was on the way. Finally, I decided against it, and just hopped in the car. Wanting to seem casual, but not wanting to waste gas, I got a drink from the McDonald’s drive thru and sat in the parking lot until 9:30 before I continued on the way to his apartment.

I got lost once, when I took the wrong turn off of 2nd Court and ended up in a suburb I barely managed to find my way back out of. By the time I finally pulled into the complex, it was past 10:00. I couldn’t say I’d managed not to waste gas, but I would certainly seem casual.

I could hear music playing through the door when I knocked. I couldn’t identify it, much like most of the music Levi played when we were together, but it was moody and it was bassy. I was going to use that as a launching pad for my conversation, but then Levi opened the door.

“I thought you weren’t going to show up,” he said, seeming neither disappointed nor pleased with my presence. I couldn’t fathom how he was speaking so indifferently. He was standing in front of me wearing practically nothing, which didn’t surprise me as much as what he _was_ wearing.  

The sheer black stockings went up to mid-thigh, held up by a matching garter belt that sat just above his belly-button. I tried not to stare, but couldn’t resist examining whether his underwear were, indeed, black satin panties. When he turned around to walk back inside, my suspicions were confirmed.

You may recall my fascination with staring at asses, after all. His was, in a nutshell (and in those panties), a work of art.

Red patent leather pumps with cruelly pointed toes completed the picture, and I walked over the threshold by force of will and nothing more. “I bought chairs,” Levi mentioned, like it was the most important thing to apprise me of. “I needed a sewing table, so I just got the whole set. At Goodwill, of course, but hey, it’s a start.”

“I’m sorry,” I started, sounding far more contentious than I meant to. “Am I not supposed to be thrown off by how you’re dressed right now?”

He stopped walking away and turned back to me at an angle. Whether or not his pose was intentional, the way he stuck out a hip and put his weight onto one foot, it did the trick. “No, _I’m_ sorry. Was I ever unclear about the fact that I dress in women’s clothing for a living?”

I was still having a bit of trouble breathing. My eyes kept wandering back to his hips, back to his ass in those panties. Before I could form an adequate reply, he went on. “I’m working on the finishing touches to my new look. It’s a process, after all.” He turned toward me, completely aware that his body had me in its thrall. “I didn’t even get a chance to put my titties on.”

“I—“ I was through with being discreet about staring at his junk, and allowed my eyes to latch on unapologetically. “I could swear you had less going on downstairs the last time I saw you like this.”

“Awww, you were looking up my skirt. Good boy.” He brought his hands down gracefully until they framed his crotch in a way that was quite unfair. “Get a good look. The transformation isn’t complete this time.”

“What?” I took the opportunity to look confused; anything to tear my eyes away, to give me something else to focus on before I lost all hope of behaving.

“When I’m doing costume runs at home I normally elect _not_ to tuck my balls into my ass.”

I just blinked a few times.

He added, “Duct tape helps. Depends on my mood, whether I can get away with a natural tuck. Depends on the tightness of the dress. Depends on my dedication. I know queens packing far more than I am who manage to look like Niki Taylor on the cover of Sports Illustrated, so there’s an expectation to uphold.”

“That’s how you do it?” My face contorted into a cringing, withering mess, and Levi just laughed. I held my legs a little tighter together.

“Yes, but sometimes I get lazy, if the outfit permits it.”

I wandered into the living room at last, taking stock of the thrift store table and its matching chairs. A sewing machine was set up, but scissors and scraps of fabric were the only indications of work being done. “Where’s the dress?” I tried to stay casual about the fact that I could have tacked his image over my bed where my black light poster had been. Luckily, talk of manhandling testicles had killed my boner for the moment.

“Tumbling in the dryer right now. Mission accomplished, for the most part.”

I sat down in one of the chairs while he walked over to turn the stereo down before heading into the kitchen. He picked up a cigarette at the counter and tapped it against his case. “If you ever want a cigarette, by the way, let me know. I don’t assume you do, but there’s the offer.”         

“No, I’m fine.”

I just watched while he blew out smoke and flipped his bangs into place with a quick toss of his head. Seeing him do that had become something I expected, something I looked forward to. Did I really know him well enough, I let my mind wander, to look forward to his habits and quirks?

“Why did you start dressing in drag?” I finally asked, because it was something I legitimately wondered. I also wanted to hear him talk; about anything, really. I recognized the band on the stereo at last: it was Concrete Blonde. Mikasa had the same album.

“Because I always thought I’d look better as a girl,” he answered almost immediately, fussing with something on the counter and not looking back at me. Like he was used to the question, or at least had answered it for himself enough times that it didn’t take much consideration. “Growing up was shitty because I was short and hippy and wanted to get fucked like a girl, so I figured _‘why not just dress like a girl?’_ At first it was because I sort of wanted to disappear, and not have people look at me as much – like, it was this compulsion to _fit in_ by being a girl. But I never got the nerve to go out in public like that. I was doing it before I even knew it was a thing, that there were other people like me. It was just my secret for a while, and then my first real boyfriend suggested I do drag. I was like _‘what’s that?’_ and when he explained it, I was overjoyed. Because I was already doing that, basically, standing in front of the mirror and pretending I was Bette Midler or Gloria Estefan. So… yeah. That’s it. The rest is history.”

It took me some time to process that I’d learned more about him in that minute of explanation than I’d ever expected to. Revelations were coming at the strangest times. “That’s really cool,” I said, for lack of anything more profound to say.

He stayed between me and the kitchen, leaning against a wall as he was wont to do, smoking his cigarette. There was comfort in the silence, and when he spoke it wasn’t simply to fill a gap. “When I’m Tirne I can usually forget about all those insecurities, you know? Like having to ask what you like about me, bullshit like that. When I’m her, I don’t care, because I know I look good. She has her own story, too. Her own background. Her own personality. I smile when I’m her, I flirt better, I'm less of an asshole.” 

I’d accused Jean of wearing a costume to hide in plain sight, of putting on the face of what felt right for his own survival. I’d criticized him for it, like it was a bad thing, and suddenly I realized how wrong it was. Just because I’d never felt that need didn’t mean the costume and the truth were mutually exclusive presentations.

“I’ve told you a lot of things about myself,” he said, with no particular need for me to reciprocate the statement. It was simply what it was. He was cutting the fact out and tacking it up, making it known that this was something he hadn’t expected to do.

“I’d like to know more about her, too.”

Levi looked over at me with a strangely surprised look; stripped-down, like he couldn’t believe I’d said it. It was disarming, to catch him off guard and see his eyes so accusing in that tenderness, like ‘ _how dare you say the right thing?’_ “Okay.” He paused and nodded, glancing away again. “Next time I am her, okay.”

I knew, without _knowing,_ exactly, that I would have to learn two very different parts of the same person in order to find my footing, in order to gain his respect. I didn’t have time to congratulate myself on cracking that code, though, because my mouth started moving before I had time to check my thoughts. Again. “Who are you now, then?”

Levi was silent at that, and if anything I expected a reprimand. Without the resolve to stare him down after asking one of my trademark potentially stupid questions, I just laced my fingers together between my knees and pretended to crack my knuckles.

I looked up when I heard Levi walking into the living room. Every step made his hips swing like a pendulum. He got closer and I leaned back into my chair; the cheap wood creaked under my shifting weight. I tore my eyes away from his body, however reluctantly, and watched his eyes as he stopped in front of the chair and lifted one foot to wedge his high heel onto the seat next to my thigh.

“Who do you think?”

His expectation didn’t need clarification, but he gave it regardless. He knew I didn’t tend to answer his rhetorical questions. The fact that he’d practically shoved his crotch into my face must have been enough. “Lullaby” was playing softly on his stereo.

“Touch me,” he said, speaking down at me around the cigarette in his mouth.

“I—“ I wanted to say that I wasn’t sure how, but stopped myself when I realized how infantile that sounded.

“Wherever you want. If you even want to.” He held his cigarette aside and let the smoke curl up from the end, its deliberate slowness matching the patience of his posture. “I’ve been horny since I blew you this morning, and I’m not going to lie about how much I want you to want to.”

Of course I wanted to.

I lifted one hand and held the tip of my tongue unconsciously between my lips in concentration. I hesitated for a split-second above his thigh, and then slipped my fingers around it, feeling the slick warmth of the stockings tight against his skin. Captivated by the smoothness that was almost slippery beneath my palm, I rubbed there and moved lower, biting my lip as I felt him from calf to knee and back again. My thumb nearly touched my middle finger at the slimmest part of his ankle, but I could still feel the muscles rock solid beneath every curve of his legs, especially in his thighs. I let my other hand join in on the opposite leg. Levi’s breath slowed, got more deliberate.

He glanced away at one point, like he was almost bored by the situation, and I can’t say why that sent the most potent jolt of arousal through me. His disinterested face, while my hands curled in toward the hot juncture of his inner thighs, was almost a challenge. I looked straight ahead, down just slightly. His erection was pulling the black satin panties away from his skin, but my hands had other areas of interest to attend to first.

I shocked myself when I let out a muted whine as I cupped my hands around his satin-covered ass, and Levi matched it with an approving grunt. I squeezed and his hips lifted toward me slightly. Maybe I shouldn’t have been stunned by the fact that his ass wasn’t pure muscle like the rest of him, but its softness was still unexpected

“Talk to me,” he said suddenly.

“You didn’t talk to _me_ ,” I mentioned, just to be a brat, and slid two fingers beneath the fabric to stroke the pronounced curve between his thigh and his ass.

“Oh, I’m _sorry_ , was I too busy swallowing your come? Please forgive me.” He put a stopper on the sarcasm quickly enough, though, and tilted his hips up toward me once more. I was starting to get the hint, but it was incredible to see him squirm a little. He knew it, too. Something told me he was playing right into it, and I’d never been so happy to be manipulated.

I still didn’t know what to say, so I just wrapped my hand around his cock, pulling the soft fabric taut around the tip as I did. “ _Jesus_ ,” he hissed, and tossed his head back for a moment. “I’m really glad I didn’t tuck.”

It was strange, how I didn’t especially want to get him naked. The lingerie was part of the appeal, to be honest, and it gave me something of a crutch while my mind went off the rails on how to go about my first handjob. I looked up and watched Levi smoke while I stroked him.

After a few passes from my hand the fabric was moist when I swiped my thumb over the head. At that, Levi left the cigarette between his lips and grabbed my shoulder with one hand. He squeezed hard, using the move to brace himself as he swayed a bit. “Shit, that’s good.”

I was still looking at his face. Sensing my attention, perhaps, he blinked down to meet my eyes. “What’s on your mind? Wondering how that’s going to fit inside of you?” He smirked.

I spread my legs as much as I could to give myself more room to grow, as it were. The mere suggestion had me a mess of emotions and compulsions, wondering if he meant to take it that far tonight. I hadn’t even showered that morning. I didn’t really want it to happen under current conditions, at the same time that I sincerely did.

“Nothing. I’m not really… Not really thinking. I just want to concentrate. Is it really good?”

“It’s really good,” he assured me. “Wanna know what I’m thinking?”

I nodded.

“I’ll bet you can fuck all night.”

I took a deep breath and hooked my fingers around the elastic of the panties, pulled them aside to take his cock out. I let him keep talking as I stared at it, tightened my hand around it, came to terms with the fact that my first instinct upon seeing it was a strange sort of hunger. “Not at first, of course, but once you’ve got a taste for cock I’ll bet you’d let me take you from room to room and just keep pounding away.” I wasn’t even aware of his hand until it brushed through the longer hair on the side of my face and down to my chin. I actually gasped at that. I knew he wanted to feel how hot my skin was getting. “I can see it. I’ve got a good sense for people and I can already see you’re an insatiable little whore.”

“I—“ The excitement I felt was on par with how scared I was, to be honest. I had no idea what was going to happen next, and Armin had been absolutely right. I had no idea what to do with a cock that wasn’t my own, even though it was _right there_. “What do you want me to do?”

“I saw you licking your lips.” Had I really done that? How embarrassing. “I think you know.”

Swallowing hard, I prayed to whatever god would listen before I pressed my mouth to the tip of Levi’s cock and opened wide. The smell of hot sex took its time before it became apparent to me; once I flattened my tongue to lick him, I was fully aware of his scent and the leap of faith I’d taken.

He didn’t give me instruction, which drove me mad with worry as much as it made my ego run away with itself. With no idea whether I was doing things the right way, I just tried to imitate every blowjob I’d seen in porno, finding it much more difficult in practice than it had ever been in theory (though I’d only had a couple of weeks to even consider theory).

His cock was thicker than mine, but in the silence of evaluation I realized that I was probably bigger than he was, all things considered. It didn’t matter, though. Armin had been right about perspective; Levi seemed massive when I tried to fit my lips to the bottom of the shaft, just barely managing on pure determination until my nose touched his finely groomed pubic hair. Mercifully, he didn’t thrust up into my mouth the way I had into his. He did, however, let out an unexpected whisper of, “Jesus fucking Christ, that’s right.”

My ego bounced off the wall and spiked at the raw sound of his desire, and I sucked back on Levi’s cock with a renewed sense of purpose. His fingers tightened on my shoulder and I felt him bending over me by degrees. I held back my gag reflex as much as possible, pushing myself until I felt tears of sheer exertion pricking my eyes while I repeated the move again, again, and one more time.

On the fourth pass my composure broke, my gag reflex followed the twitch of reaction, and I pulled back from him with a loud retching sound. I wiped at my mouth and kept from looking at Levi, mumbling only “Sorry…” as I heard him chuckling.

His hand moved up to rub below the hair on the back of my neck, just tenderly enough to be reassuring, just possessively enough to make me moan. “It’s okay,” he assured me, voice low and even and utterly sensual. “Being greedy is a good thing.”

I looked at his cock, shiny with saliva and tight with expectation. After a deep breath, I put my mouth back on him. “Why don’t you finish me up with your hand?” He suggested after I gave two firm sucks to the head.

Catching my breath, I just looked up at him. He’d finished his cigarette and had extinguished it somewhere. Probably the table. I didn’t take the time to check. His fingers smelled like cloves and smoke when he reached down to trace the line of my lips with one finger. “You’re going to want to work up to certain things.”

I kept my eyes on his and hoped he wouldn’t look away when I wrapped my hand around his cock and started pumping. He didn’t. His beautiful face showed only minute reactions, but they were so plain I was able to preserve them quite clearly for my memories (very specific memories, to be dredged up only at the most appropriate times and never in the middle of math class on a boring Thursday, _of course)._

Levi’s eyes closed after a minute or two and he bared his teeth, twitching like needles were stabbing him. “Fuck,” he breathed, and I didn’t dare move, didn’t dare change a thing, slow my stroke, tighten my grip, anything. “ _Fuck!”_ He repeated, and his face softened instantly. I was so captivated by the expression that I was largely unconcerned to feel him shoot hot on my arm, on my shirt. I glanced down once, while he was still spurting onto the floor between us, and went momentarily breathless.

The sound of him panting was music to my ears, despite how keyed up I was over what he expected from the remainder of the night. When he spoke again, he sounded almost exactly as he had the night he returned from being fucked stupid at the bar, the night he kicked my sexual confusion into high gear. I relished being the reason for it, at last.

“I’ve underestimated the power of a good handjob for a long time,” he said, straightening up, running fingers over his abdomen. He was still breathing hard when he added, almost cheerily, “Thanks.”

“Um, no problem,” I said, looking down at my arm at what he’d left behind.

He followed my line of sight. “Well,” he breathed hard once more, like he’d just been through a workout. “Good thing I wanted to give you some clothes anyway.”

“Ha.” I didn’t know what the protocol was. Did I wipe it off? Did I casually act like it wasn’t there? Did I do what I wanted to do, and just taste it, just a little, just to see what it was like?

I didn’t have much time to contemplate. Before I knew it, Levi lifted his foot from my side, and in a swift motion he moved it between my legs. Directly between my legs. As in, right on my cock. I flattened against the back of the chair and held my breath, fear returning all at once. Even after I realized that I wasn’t in any particular _danger, per se_ , the conflicting arousal was still doing a number on my nerves.

Though I wanted very badly to ask Levi what the hell he was doing, I couldn’t say anything when I looked up at him. Face giving not even an ounce of his intention away, he pressed the sole of his shoe hard against my erection, and I moaned desperately.

“Move,” he said simply.

I wasn’t sure I could, but I just nodded and forced my hips to squirm as much as they could. The friction was all I could process, and my power against it was all I could focus on. I started to move more intently, throwing out labored breaths, tightening my fingers under the seat of the chair just to keep myself in the proverbial saddle. I managed an angle that had the weight of his foot resting just over the crucially sensitive ridge at the tip of my cock, and I felt myself go light-headed with how quickly all rational thought left my brain.

“Now you tell me,” he said. “What should I do?”

“I don’t—“

“If you don’t tell me what you want me to do to you, I’m not going to do anything!” He snapped. “Be a fucking man.”

The tone made me yelp, his volume made me buck against him harder, and everything combined and made me cry out the first thing on my mind. “Suck it again!” I cried out desperately.

And he did. Oh, he very much did. He pulled my pants off before kneeling in front of the chair and going to work, and I managed to hold myself back just slightly more than I had earlier that morning. I had time to actually _feel_ it, to do more than just react to him. Expecting things made a big difference, as did being able to stare down at him from my vantage point, to see Levi’s knees bent and his stocking legs situated between me, red heels crowning the picture… I wondered if he actually _enjoyed_ it, he was so enthusiastic to repeat the scenario.  

I was instructed to wash up in the bathroom, and when I returned in my boxer shorts with my dirty clothes in hand, Levi threw a small bag onto the floor next to me. “There you go. There’s a few t-shirts in there, mostly band shirts that are too big for me. You might not look good in them either, but I’m also pawning off a pair of black jeans that make my ass look awful.”

I decided to try my luck at saying something witty. “I don’t think that’s possible.” He turned back just long enough to show he acknowledge the remark. “Thanks for the clothes.”

“You need to stop dressing like it’s still 1989. You need to be a little cooler than that.”

Levi had pulled a button-up shirt on over his stockings and panties. I wanted to express my amazement at the fact that he even owned a plain button-up shirt, but then I remembered that everyone, no matter what socioeconomic background they came from, had one good “dress up” outfit in his or her clothing arsenal. I breathed deeply and admired the way it completed the look. The hem fell just above the line of his ass, and with the panties creeping naturally between his cheeks the result was enough to fool my body for a few moments into thinking it was ready to go again.

He had a fold-up ironing board out and was standing in front of it, working on pressing the sparkly silver dress that had just come out of the dryer. I watched in silent fascination the way he placed a dish towel between the iron and the fabric before each meticulous press.

Being there felt comfortable, I realized. Just sitting in silence, the way I did at Armin’s or at home. The CD had finished and he had the radio on. It was my favorite station, the one that Armin and I would always call to request the same songs. The late night DJs even knew us by voice. I was silently pleased that Levi liked the station as well, I felt such a personal connection with it.  

“I like this song,” I mentioned. It was the Cranberries.

“They’re a good band. This song really doesn’t show how angry they actually are. I have their tape, I should copy it for you.”

“That would be cool.”

 _You sound hopeful,_ I remembered Armin saying, and I believed him so completely that I was ready to throw caution to the wind.

“Do you—“ I started, and then knew I would be defeated before I even allowed myself to finish the statement. I shook my head and forgot about it, but Levi wasn’t going to let it go that easy. One more verse of the song played before he prompted me to continue.

“Do you want…“ I sighed loudly, shaking my head to indicate that I already knew it was a hopeless question. “You know, do you want to date? For real? Forget it, that’s stupid.”

He folded the dish towel with swift, exacting movements, and kept his eyes darkly on me as he did. I felt the world narrow to a pinhole through which I could only see him glare at me before turning around to examine the seams on his dress. My vocal cords wouldn’t work. I was paralyzed.

“Why do you know that’s stupid?” He asked me at last, after that song ended and another I recognized – They Might Be Giants, “Snailshell” – began playing.

Oh, I was being asked to voice all of my worst fears. Lovely. “Because I’m a minor. Because you don’t want that sort of thing. Because you don’t want anything complicated.” I paused. I already knew better than to say it. But I did. “Because you’re in love with someone else.”

He listened to the laundry list of reasons calmly until that very last one, at which point he turned around with quick, military precision. I saw the subtle way he drew up to his full height; small in stature though Levi was, he struck an intimidating posture when he put his whole body into it. Even half-dressed in lingerie. His jaw moved back and forth as he let it settle into thinking through his words, and once he cleared his throat I knew better than to say a word. I looked away when Levi started to walk toward me.

The other chair made barely a sound against the carpet as he pulled it over with one foot to sit down next to me. Looking at the floor, I noticed that he’d already cleaned the spot where he’d come on the carpet. Was that symbolic or had I confused what our teacher told us symbolism was?

“One, this is already complicated. It’s complicated whether or not we want it to be, because mouths have touched dicks and that’s very rarely a _casual_ situation. Second, don’t assume what I don’t want just because you’re trying to feel sorry for yourself. Third, yes. You’re a minor; corollary to number one, things already being complicated. And that’s the reason. That’s the reason right there. You could have left it at that, but you didn’t. You kept going, and shot your stupid fucking mouth off.” There was a fourth. I was bracing myself. “And finally, shut the fuck up about what you don’t understand. Just shut – the – fuck – up.”    

It wasn’t the way he’d first told me to shut the fuck up, when he didn’t know me and he was nothing more than the first adult who’d ever treated me like an equal in the backtalk department. Everything had been different when we first met, before we traded stories and shared identities. With a history, however brief, between us, the words were so much more. I’d fucked up, and I knew it, but there was no taking it back. Still, I hadn’t expected him to be quite so upset.

For the first time in my life, I felt the most awful feeling in the pit of my stomach, in a place nothing could salve.

“I’m sorry,” I offered. I couldn’t have sounded sincere. I was full of too many other emotions. I didn’t yet know how to give apologies time for reflection before handing them out; I just knew they were band-aids, quick ways to fix misunderstandings. All of my misunderstandings had been nothing until now, though.

Levi shook his head and stood up, scratching the back of his head as he did. “There’s a tape in the bag, too. I made you a stupid mixtape, but take that with a grain of salt now.”

I was weak in the knees. I couldn’t be expected to stand. I had no idea what to do if he told me to leave and never come back. I was so close to crying I could barely function. He’d already told me to be a fucking man, and I was still going by that order. “Please don’t be mad at me,” I said, as meekly as I’d ever said anything.

“I’m just _disappointed_. Because I might have said yes if you hadn’t just gone off and assumed everything.”

He picked the dress up carefully from the ironing board and walked into his bedroom, avoiding my eyes as they followed him. He shut the door. He didn’t come back out. I sat there with my heartbeat drowning out the music, wondering what to do. The sinking feeling settled deeper in my stomach and, as everyone who has ever fucked up must, I realized my crucial mistake in letting another person become the only thing I was looking forward to every day for.    

I made my way out shamefully, wondering if he would be right back out to lock the door behind me, wondering if I could manage to throw the door open then and shoehorn my apology in amidst the struggle. My hands reached into the bag and shakily pulled out the tape he’d made me. The songs were hand written on the label, but I only looked long enough to be saddened by the sight of Levi’s handwriting. I pushed the tape into the deck, because I felt the masochistic urge to dig the knife further into the wound.

I expected something grungy, something dark, something utterly gothic and utterly _Levi._ In a way, it was. But instead of Depeche Mode or Bauhaus, the song that started playing was, true to his teen years in the 80’s, Heart.

“Oh, no,” I groaned immediately, because I knew the song.

Until the second verse, I managed a stoic silence. I had to stop a little longer at the intersections just to remember which direction to turn, which kept me focused enough not to think about it too much. At first. My hands were shaky on the wheel. I couldn’t tell whether I was angry at him or angry at myself. I let the song play out like an unspoken confession, and my lips moved along with the words on pure instinct: “ _I never really cared until I met you.”_

Knowing Levi’s intelligence made me take it seriously. He was smart, and he was artistic. This wasn’t just a stupid mixtape. The simple fact he’d said that was telling enough. I felt the full impact right after Ann Wilson sang “ _and I was going to tell you tonight_.”

At the next red light I put my face into my hands to muffle a cathartic scream.                


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter from Levi's POV. 
> 
> It's heavy on the Levi/Erwin. In fact it's pretty much Levi/Erwin, that's it, that's the chapter. I wish I could say I'm sorry but hey, all roads lead to why we're all here, so *dying whale noise* Also wow these two and their angst sort of hit me like a scimitar to the groin (that's why you're here, folks; turns of phrase like that).
> 
> So, let's review what we've learned in the past week: please don't spam pairing tags on Tumblr with talk of or reactions to the fic (I'm not even posting it under pairing tags anymore), and the "official" (??? flails???) tag is "fic: 1994"
> 
> KEEP READING LOVELIES, the story is still going strong!! --ollies out--

I bought and smoked a pack of cigarettes within six hours following Eren’s departure. They were efficacious in keeping me in the stew of a bad mood, too strong for my liking but a perfect match for the bottle of Wild Turkey I seemed intent on killing before the sun even rose. Thank Christ I was off for the day, but the dread of returning to work settled in my stomach like lead. Work was too close to where he lived. There were too many thoughts. There were always too many thoughts. I considered, for not the first time as I stroked the neck of the bottle like a lover, about selling everything I had, using the money for gas, and taking off across the country with no destination.

It was the whim of an eighteen-year-old under the influence of too much Kerouac, I realized with a sneer, sitting cross-legged in a chair in front of my open living room window. I’d outgrown those desires and I just needed to render myself inebriated enough that I couldn’t even make it down the stairs, much less act on them. I didn’t want the complex uncertainty of living every day in a different city, dependent on strangers and my own survivalism. I disliked people too much to be successful at that. I just wanted to turn back the clock and stop myself from being upset at someone who had no idea what he was saying. Further than that, though, keep going back; I wanted to never have entertained the thought of falling for him in the first place. It pissed me off. It made me scowl at the moon and wonder what he had that I really, truly, potentially wanted. I could live without his naivete and his tendency to talk back, his hesitant, emotional approach to sex, his utter lack of self-awareness. I just didn’t want to. Because despite all of it, he’d proven a fit. He was a pair of shoes too ugly to exist that somehow looked perfect, almost embarrassingly so, once they were actually on. To stretch the metaphor, they were also (he was also?) too expensive, but perhaps too good to pass up. Either way it would be a decision I resented, no matter which decision it was.

I watched the sun rise from the same window in front of which I’d been parked for a good five hours. About four fingers of whiskey were still sloshing around in the bottle when I dragged myself to the shower and scrubbed the stink of cigarette smoke from my body in disgust. Birds were chirping outside, threatening to keep me awake. They were no match for Joy Division, which was the perfect accompaniment as I fell asleep on contact with my mattress.

Trying not to be a depressive little sonofabitch who eschewed sunlight was one of those things I’d settled on attempting since Erwin took a chance at taming me, and so with great effort I opened my eyes around noon despite a throbbing headache and a once quite familiar voice in my head repeating over and over that I shouldn’t bother getting out of bed. I picked up on the distinctive patter of rain on my bedroom window. The sad romance of that was not lost on me in the slightest, and I enjoyed it wistfully until I realized I had never closed the window in the living room. It got me on my feet, at least. After applying towels to the soggy patch of carpet, I massaged my temples and thought about the day. I had work to do if I wanted to be ready for my show tomorrow night, so I resolved to forget about Eren until sad romantic fate decreed we cross paths again, and set about my tasks.

By 3:00 there was nothing left to do unless I wanted to finish the rest of the bottle, pass out on my laurels, and take five aspirin before my shift started in twenty hours. Idle hands always made the devil’s work for me, true to the phrase, but then I usually made little else. I just made more of it when left to wandering thoughts and festering confusion. There was a phone in one of my idle hands. I made a solemn bargain with myself to at least see if there was anyone on the other line before I drowned my sorrows further.    

It was pure adrenaline that had me dialing the number, holding the phone to my ear, listening to my pulse rabbit in my throat as it rang.

There was an answer on the third ring. “Hello?”

I considered not responding. Everything else subsided and my thoughts became so sharply focused that I couldn’t be begged to think of Eren. How to start the conversation, though? That was the question.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Tactful, I never had been. I never had reason to be.

An agonizing pause followed, punctuated by the sound of shifting posture on the other line. I let my eyes close slowly, hating myself for it because I could practically see him, I could practically smell him. “Out of town, for a few days. Trying to catch up on things since I got back.”

He didn’t ask why I was asking, because he knew very well. Something about his tone suggested also that he was holding back, not telling me the proper story. I realized that I had no idea where to go with my words from there. So I just sighed.

Words were ineffective for both of us; he was only tactful when he had reason, and he never had one around me. “Do you want me to come over?” He asked.

“Yes,” I replied gruffly, putting a firm point on it before hanging up the phone because that was that, there was nothing else to say.

I took a deep breath once that ordeal was over, unsure what I was thinking but sure I would develop a plan of action once I saw Erwin’s face again. A generous swig of whiskey to rally my courage, and I decided to make myself presentable. I took another shower for good measure, sure that the stench of cigarettes was still clinging to me even after the first. It was ridiculous that I even smoked; I couldn’t stand the smell, the nicotine residue, the thought that I was spending so much money on something so impermanent when I could get a much stronger, longer-lasting sense of focus for not much more. Though, with uppers and cocaine out of my picture, I let cigarettes keep my hands from being idle, and found nicotine a pleasant substitute to calm my occasional nerves and keep me from fidgeting. It was a compromise I’d reached with Erwin, as a matter of fact. Still, I hated to think that he smelled it on me when he kissed my neck.

In lieu of anything potentially more formal (an admittedly obnoxious attempt at seeming casual, that), I slipped on a pair of boxer briefs and the button-up I’d been wearing to impress Eren the night before. If I couldn’t get the boy’s attention, I could at least get the man’s.

A satisfied smirk, something close to triumph, tugged at my lips when he knocked on the door less than an hour later. My own intentions were unclear beyond a gratifying way to spend a few hours, so I had no idea why I was so pleased at having him so obviously – but only occasionally – wrapped around my finger.   

We hadn’t seen each other since the bar. We’d made transactions for the supposed benefit of my future via telephone and in daylight meetings, but getting him alone, on my territory without prying eyes, was something I’d been too confused to orchestrate in well over a month. I wasn’t sure if I would be different. I wasn’t sure if he would be different. I swatted Eren’s terse little comments out of my head and opened the door, turning around immediately without a greeting, just to let Erwin know that he wasn’t worth a formal welcome.

I’d always been a manipulative little shit, despite not liking most people enough to get that far into any interaction.

I turned my back to one of my new chairs, faced the door, and leaned against it.

“Can I come in?” He sounded almost amused. I suppose he had the right to be; I was laying on the theatrics.

“Yeah.”

How dare he look like sun-kissed Greek perfection in my doorway, in my entryway, in my life, in my scope of vision? I narrowed my eyes and felt my heartbeat quicken as it always did in his presence. I tried to hold it back but realized that everything was tightening up and, as usual, my only recourse was to throw it all at him and let him decide what to do.

He was still wearing a shirt and tie, obviously fresh from school, with the mid-afternoon sun too hot for a jacket. His sleeves were pushed up. He was wearing suspenders. I hated him for that more than anything else.

After locking the door carefully, and making sure that I noticed he was locking the door, he started walking toward me, steps sort of tentative like he was courting a wild animal. I almost smiled again, self-satisfaction spiking for some reason or another. No matter the emotions involved, after all, having control over people was something I never turned my nose up at.

He paused in front of me and tucked his hands calmly into his pockets, waiting until I deigned to look up from where my eyes fell below the knot of his tie. I didn’t give in so quickly, of course. He was just something in front of me, for the time being. I closed the gap first by wrapping my fingers around his tie, finding it to be silk. I’d almost hoped it wasn’t, and sighed as I pulled down and let it slide through my fist until it was empty again.

I reached out and pushed my fingers under his suspenders, shaking my head subtly because they were so _unfair_ , they were so compelling, they held my fingers taut as I traced the lines beneath them and felt the heat of his skin and the definition of muscles otherwise hidden beneath the fabric. His heartbeat was still disarmingly calm. I slid my hands up to his shoulders and thought about withdrawing. Instead, I finally looked up at him as a dark consideration clouded my mind. I tightened my fingers, letting the subtle length of my nails dig in so he could feel them even beneath the layer of his undershirt. “Does your wife know you’re here?” I whispered harshly, unblinking.

“No,” he answered, letting understanding flicker over his features for just a moment before he did. Otherwise, he showed no reaction.

We were each shameless in our own way.

I pushed the suspenders off and grabbed his arms with bruising tightness. “Fuck you,” I growled, pulling him closer, feeling my hips furl toward him despite every other conflicting thought running through my mind. “Fuck you.”

He just put both hands on my face and leaned in to kiss me; softly at first, despite any preconceived notion I may have had. I shuddered, realizing I had no control over my body and would not from that point forward. Not as long as those hands were on me, not as long as that mouth was on me.

We were pushing together in a violent kiss by the time I grabbed his tie and twisted it in my hand, pulling him down to my level rather than rising up even an inch. It was my one way of resisting, until he grabbed me by my thighs and hitched me up off of my feet. I gasped into his mouth and growled harder after that, our teeth crashing together as I threw my legs around him and felt him hard where we collided.

I was shifted and stripped and pulled into position like a ragdoll right there. I allowed only a fleeting moment of concern for the possibility that we might break the table I’d just purchased; I was distracted quickly enough by the fact that Erwin’s tongue was in my ass.

This wasn’t how love worked. This was too delirious for love, too irrational and rabid to be anything with a definition. I had to be sure, though; or maybe I just wanted to prove what I already knew. I didn’t actually care. I pounded my fist on the table and choked on a cry that quickly gave way to a scream while he prodded his fingers with slow, instinctive precision at my prostate. I remembered what it was like, why I’d been so confused for months.

I didn’t feel anything but pleasure. It was everything I’d wanted from disposable bullshit, with the unfortunate distinction of having a person attached.

“Fuck me,” I begged, just a junkie desperate for a bump. So close to being a man of means, and reduced all over again to a mess. But caring about it is something a junkie does not do.

He leaned over me, kissed between my shoulders tenderly, and pressed his cheek down against the same spot. “No,” he said with a tone I couldn’t identify. For a moment I was truly frightened. “Not yet.”

I was going to argue with him, maybe let fly with my long-since-prepared litany of condemnations, before he picked me up and carried me into the bedroom.

We said little of consequence for approximately three hours. I told him to get naked, he asked me for preferences and assurances on this and that, and I don’t count the fevered yelling and the dirty talk that I filed away in my memories for future reference. Not that I could have ever forgotten the way his usually composed voice navigated certain phrases, the way his smooth baritone marinated words like “my fat cock” or “your tight, sweet little cunt.” I concentrated beyond the mindless trance he put me in, regardless.

I came three times. He fell one short on purpose because he was like that. I asked if he wanted to share a cigarette and he accepted. Naked and dripping with sweat and what he’d left inside of me, I opened the bedroom window and collapsed halfway over him to relax into my still-quivering recovery.

Immediately, I began stewing again. I almost swore out loud at the injustice of that, but decided to just scowl at the wall instead.   

I was nearly finished with the cigarette, flicking into the ashtray balanced on his perfectly chiseled abdomen when he broke the silence. “Did you know your dad well, growing up?”

I paused and passed the cigarette back to him. “I swear to God if you’re gonna say anything about daddy issues…”

I expected him to interrupt me, but he didn’t. I let the phrase fall off, unfinished, unanswered. It was one of the very few times we had ever fallen off each other’s tracks. He dragged to the filter and blew the smoke out in one long breath. “Mine died last week,” he finally replied with disquieting solemnity, crushing the butt into the ashtray and moving it aside. “Is why I’m asking.”

He glanced at me only momentarily. It was rare for me to be humbled into silence. Talking was my only defense, sometimes, because I knew I was smart enough to maintain my fortitude even in the tensest confrontation. But on those words, my throat closed up and I just nodded. It explained his absence, at least. His unusual humor. It didn’t excuse anything, but it explained it.

“My dad drove a cab.” I dredged up what I felt like sharing. I opened the doors that felt appropriate to open. “He was short. Like me. He was fat, though. He called me a little runt.” It had been a loving nickname. To preserve a little of my mystery, I kept that from Erwin.

“What do you think you learned from him?”

Without the ashtray to worry about, I shifted into a more comfortable position against him and sighed, thinking it over. “One time I got stung by a wasp and he taught me how to dress it with headache powder. How to drive. He taught me how to cut my own hair. He was a barber in the Navy before he met my mom.”

I stopped abruptly. It was all I felt like sharing.

“Do you think he taught you anything subconsciously? How you act with people, do you think you got any of that from him?”

I fixed my eyes on Erwin and narrowed them suspiciously. “What do you mean, how I act with people?”

“Like that,” he clarified with half a chuckle. I just sighed, too exhausted to even give him a playful punch to the arm.

“Probably not. My parents were decent, that’s why I don’t blame them for giving up on me.” I paused, realizing I’d gone too far. My parents were still alive and I referred to them in the past tense, first of all. I balanced expertly on the precipice of the rest of me before I retreated on the topic. “What did you learn?”

“Control.”

There were so many meanings in that word. I wondered how long his fingers had been combing through my sweat-soaked hair.

Without needing the cue, he went on. “We were all expected to behave a certain way, achieve certain things, persue certain goals. You controlled what you did as much as you controlled what you _didn’t_ do, in my family. And it was all on you. If you failed, it was on you. If you succeeded, the burden was yours. Debts were repaid, grudges held. My father taught me how to get the same thing out of others. That unquestioning obedience.”

The time wasn’t right to say how much sense it made; it went without any particular note. I nodded again, and rolled my head back like a cat into his hand.

“He never warned me how empty it would all feel, this far down the line. Twenty years after I poured everything into what I could get out of people when I graduated high school, and here I am. What I learned from my dad was, essentially, how to mask the emptiness.”

The suggestion was implicit. He might have been a different person. The influences of youth were, by and large, something we couldn’t choose. Erwin masked it well. He smiled often. He stroked my hair and held me with a sincerely gentle, protective touch until our boundaries opened like castle gates under the influence of sex. Erwin was a kind person. He was a more timid soul than I. But he’d been raised to know blatantly the truth of the world. I’d followed – and was still following, probably – the road of hurt and disappointment, searching for ideals.

He was realistic, at least. And so, like most realities, he was destined to hurt me as well. At least I would no longer be surprised when it happened. At least I wouldn’t wonder where it came from.

I hadn’t said a word, I realized, as I pushed my face toward his at last and chirped at him for a reaction. We were stoic, looking at one another. We were men like our fathers, stalwart in our roles, holding on to no illusions.

Eren took after his mother, I suddenly knew in a most bizarre twist of jarring clarity. He must have.

“Are you trying to fix me?” I finally asked.

Erwin seemed stunned, and was stoic even in that. “You’re broken?”

It lit a fire in me that stayed dormant while I tried to maintain my composure, my relaxation. “I’m not like you.”

He thought about this for a moment, and I watched his eyebrows knit in a subtle way. “I can’t describe why it just hurt, to hear you put it like that.”

“What are you trying to accomplish with me? By doing this? All of this?” My heartbeat was going crazy, my adrenaline was pumping as much as it could after the windfall of our workout. The fire was growing. “The help, the crazy sex, the job, the apartment, all of it.”

“Nothing.” Still unfettered. That sonofabitch. “I just like being with you. You got the job yourself, you do it yourself. You paid for this apartment, I just let someone run my credit. I think you’re worth something, is all.”

I drew up on my arms and leaned over his broad chest, looking down at him as calmly as I could. “What if I got strung out again, went further, hit the needle, got fired?”

“I’d wonder what happened.”

_Stop saying the right thing. Stop being sympathetic. Get mad at me. Buck me off._

“Would you be disappointed?” I gritted my teeth.

“I’d ask you what happened, what was so unbearable that you did that again.”

I pulled out the proverbial gun I’d been hiding behind my back and made sure he was looking me in the eyes when I asked, “What if I told you I think I’m falling in love?”

“Not with me, surely.”

“No.”

I paused. He wasn’t responding. He was almost flip in the way he pulsed his eyebrows at me for a moment, knowing I wanted to go on. “It’s one of your students.”

That pulled a modicum of something else from him, at least. But what was it? I just wanted him to reach his end with me. I wanted Erwin Smith to denounce me. But things are never so simple with a timid soul, especially a timid soul with an uncanny knack for diplomacy.

“Levi…” 

“Is that tone for the statutory sodomy part, or is it sheer disbelief over me having feelings?”

Before I could stop myself, I made it the final test. What he had to say next would make the decision for me. Erwin made no mention of the first possibility, and instead he adopted a truly, deeply hurt expression while he pulled a hand up to place against my chest. “Don’t even play with the suggestion that I don’t think what you feel matters, or that I don’t consider it. Is that how low you regard me? Is that how low you think I regard _you_?”

I snapped; the fire bubbled up and over. I pulled his hand away by the wrist and set my jaw firmly. “Am I supposed to apologize? Am I supposed to actually believe that, after you never told me you were _married?_ ”

I should have known he’d have a statement prepared. “You were supposed to be easy.” It hit like a slug to the chest, but it was so simple to read as true, so simple to apply as the only possible explanation, that I almost nodded in agreement. “I saw you and I thought I’d fuck something beautiful and get it out of my system and call it a night. I’ve done it before. Just try to think about being in the closet. Try to put yourself in that position, for even a moment. You weren’t special when I met you, when I saw you. It’s not like I _targeted_ you to this end. You were the one who asked for help first. You were the one who opened your mouth. Then you showed me who you were and I fell for you, and that was _my_ mistake. I’m not sorry for it, though. Because guess what? I like what we’ve had! Fucked up though it’s been, I’ve attached a lot to this as well. I’m upset that you’ve got someone else, to be honest. But at the same time I’m happy. It’s set up well for both of us to stop this. It’s good for me. It’s good for you.”

He could have stopped there, and I could have been angry at him, but he didn’t. “You’re grown and you’re smart. You have some momentum. Don’t waste it.”

“What if I want to waste it?” I still wanted to feel his body against mine. I still didn’t want to leave. It was a confrontation, yes, but it was still as intimate as anything we’d shared. “What if _my_ choice, in _my_ life, is to die in an alley?”

He grabbed me by the neck. He pulled me down. I opened my lips on contact with his and we writhed together in a combined geyser of vitriol, until I was straddling him and had my talons in his arms, considering everything he’d said, considering that this was the end, no matter what else we said.

“ _Guilt_ ,” he seethed against my mouth like he knew what he was talking about. More than I wanted to explore, at that moment. Which meant ever. “Guilt is a powerful motivation.”

“But you—“

“Not me! Don’t live for me! God knows I want to keep fucking you forever and have this be _recreation_ , but this is eating away at my life, too. I want you to be here and as cliché as it sounds I want you to be my friend!” Even he rolled his eyes at that, knowing I would reject it simply because of the sound of it. “I want to be able to give you things I have, because those things are mine to give. You can reject it at any time. Any time. But even if you keep accepting me, I don’t want that to translate to having a whore.”

My mouth was already open on a response, but I lost whatever I’d been planning to say.

That stung.

“You were thinking it,” he chuntered, blue eyes clouded a little by frustration.

“I actually was.”

“I never wanted you to think it was like that.”

My eyes closed heavily and I tilted my chin up, trying to hold my composure even as I felt a tear, then a couple more, slipping free. He reached up to wipe them away. In what I couldn’t help but treat as a symbolic decision, I let him. When my composure finally broke, I took a sobbing breath and lowered myself onto his chest. One fist balled and I struck him there, harder than I’d been expecting for something intended to be a gesture. He grunted at the impact but didn’t say a word. His hands slid around my waist and I still felt safe. I was angrier than I’d ever been because I _still felt safe._

“You were supposed to be the one.” I struggled to start speaking, and when I did I knew I wouldn’t stop easily. “I met you and felt things you’re only supposed to feel when it’s right. Butterflies, fate, the whole chemical pull toward another person, and that’s got me all fucked up, to the point people notice it. I’m crazy over you and it pisses me off! I am _so mad_ right now!” I was wheezing through my nose, speaking through clenched teeth again. “Because I don’t love you! I’ve come to that conclusion, but it doesn’t make it easier. I don’t know how to deal with this, and now you’re just lying here, still being right. Everything you say is perfect, even when you piss me off. Everything you do feels like it was meant for me. You fuck like a god, you look like a movie star, you’re rich, you’re smart. What the fuck?” And that was it. I’d exhausted my emotional savings. I sucked in a deep breath and realized I was spent. “What the _fuck_ is wrong with us?” I asked more pointedly, breathless for all my confusion.

“My parents had the money to put me through Brown. I inherited money. I only fuck like this with you. My wife thinks I’m _distant_. Even when I pick up other people, I hold back.”

I looked up, feeling my face smooth out for the first time in what felt like hours, feeling my wheels slide back into his track at last. “I’m earnestly noting that you have nothing to refute about looking like a movie star.”

“A young Paul Newman, I think.”

I snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself with that “young” part.”

He looked exactly like a young Paul Newman.

“We should be right.” I was calmer. I was as calm as I was going to be. I felt reckoning right over my shoulder, watching us. “Why did you have to go slumming with me?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sick of men telling me they’re sorry.”

He let that one hang in the air unanswered, like he did with many of my baited hooks. “I need to piss,” he finally said. I rolled over and watched him while he stretched on the edge of the bed, tracing the lines of his back with my eyes as I’d traced them with my tongue about an hour ago.

“You’re a misguided sentimental fool,” I remarked, and lifted my foot to push softly against him. He turned halfway to glance back at me, and I could only assume our smirks matched. “You should focus on putting your charity into the kids.” I paused. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. “Just not your dick.”

“What, like you?”

 _Touché_. “Ehh, I might have fucked that up. I probably did.”

I pulled a shirt back on, and nothing else. I gave him time to dress, and was waiting with a cup of coffee in the kitchen. I tried not to be turned on by the disheveled, half-put-together look he had when he appeared, but still stifled a whine behind the lip of my cup. “Thanks,” he said, tucking in his shirt as he turned to face me at the opposite counter.

“So this is it?”

He seemed stunned that I would ask. I was stunned that I felt so peaceful about it. “If you think you’re falling hard enough to proclaim it post-coitally, then this needs to stop. At the very least.”

“He’s a minor.” Part of me still wanted him to leave angry. I wouldn’t stop believing it was a possibility.

Erwin sighed and picked up his coffee cup. “I’m good at my job but I’m not there to be a hypocrite. It’s hard enough being gay in high school, so that’s not mine to pass judgment on. Especially since I _am_ sort of a hypocrite. I know how hard it is to catch you at a disadvantage, though, and whoever he is he seems to have done that.” He paused to sip, and looked up at me. “Do you make him happy? Are you going to try to _unfuck_ what you say you’ve fucked up? Did you fuck it up because of me? Because if so, I’m sorrier than before.”

I glanced away, giving him an implicit “yes” to every question.

“Are you going to be good to someone that vulnerable?”

After a heavy, frustrated sigh, I said all I could think: “This hurts.”

“It does.”

“Why did you ever do this?”

“Because I’m a coward.”

That would have really been enough. He could have left his coffee cup behind and I would have stared at the edge of it, thought it was very poignant while I cleaned off all the things his lips had touched, including my own body, for the last time. But he had to go on. He had to go on because he was the worst best thing that had ever happened to me. “Twenty years ago, I would have killed to be in his shoes. To have someone like you to be brave for.” I felt that familiar stinging behind my eyes and I wanted to punch him in the chest again. “You’re exceptional. Levi, you’re beautiful and smart and you’re so _good_. So good that you go out of your way to convince others you’re not.”

I tightened up when he moved toward me, and flinched when he touched my hair. He knew he didn’t have the right to do so anymore, so he pulled away at the last moment. It took my breath away when I saw the sad smile on his face.

“I tried for a decade not to feel anything,” I said. I didn’t wipe away the tear that broke free. He’d already seen me cry. Erwin had seen me in literally every humor except perfectly happy. I had nothing to hide. ”Why are you making this happen?”

He leaned in and we opened the space between ourselves once more just so he could kiss the tear away from my cheek. _You sonofabitch,_ I mouthed but did not say.

“Are you sure it’s all me?”

He did not say goodbye. He let those be his last words, and obviously he wanted me to think about them. I got in the car when he was gone, leaving the apartment a time capsule to ruminate on in better spirits. I opened up the Camaro on the highway, taking her to ninety, coaxing her back down, accelerating quickly enough to hear her hit that sweet spot between third and fourth gear every time where the engine thrummed like a sex purr.

I made a loop around the city and came back through the county road to find the old lot by the industrial park while the sun was still setting. Part of me hoped a shitty old station wagon would be waiting there, but I was alone. It was good, in a way, to have the time to think. The rain left behind a fresh, turned earth smell in the big field. I closed my eyes and breathed it in deeply.  

“No, definitely not.” Sitting cross-legged on the hood of my car with the windows down and the radio playing, I finally answered the question into the wind once the sky was dark.  


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes (and then happened when Acclamation was serial, as well) I get nervous when nothing really _happens_ in a chapter. But that's just how things happen, and I think that even in these moments we're getting to a lot of the meat of what makes 1994!Eren who he is. Boring? I don't think so. Frustrating? Maybe. That shirt doe.
> 
> SO ALL I'M SAYING IS DON'T GET SUPER EXCITED, THERE ARE NO HUGE REVELATIONS OR RESOLUTIONS IN THIS CHAPTER. Just enjoy it. Please. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ
> 
> Oh and for a song-drop with this chapter check out "More Than This" by Roxy Music.

Whether I wanted to or not (I didn’t), I had to go back to school the next morning. It was a Friday, at least, and that was the only bright side I could find. I offered to pick Armin up, for strength in numbers more than anything else, and showed up earlier than I usually might have even rolled out of bed.

He noted as much when he answered the door. “It’s not even 6:00 yet,” he pointed out, like I didn’t know. “Let me get dressed and I’ll be out.”

“I figure if we get there early we can avoid running into everyone, maybe get a parking spot on the side street. You know.”

Armin chuckled at his bedroom door. “You’ve put more thought into it than I have.” I waited in the living room petting a sleepy Rosie until he told me he was ready to go.

“What’s this?” He asked halfway to school, pointing at the radio.

I took a quick, bracing breath, and tried to play it off. “Nine Inch Nails.” No mention of where the tape came from, the circumstances surrounding it. It wasn’t something I wanted to talk about. I was managing to forget it for minutes at a time, here and there. Armin had other things on his mind as well, though.

“I thought your radio was broken.”

“No, the song’s supposed to sound like that.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. I was still cranky, and for the moment I could play it off as a by-product of the early morning.

“It’s okay, I’m just tired.”

Armin pretended like the song was something he enjoyed for a minute before he asked, “Are you coming to Jean’s tonight?”

“Oh, yeah, there’s a party tonight.”

“Yeah. It’ll be a good distraction, I think.”

I wasn’t feeling particularly social, but a distraction did seem to be the best option. “I’ll decide later. See how the day goes.”

“Yeah.”

The side street that ran between the school grounds and the utility billing center across from it boasted six parallel parking spots. They were prime real estate, I’d realized in the first couple of weeks; close to campus and near enough to the faculty parking lot that vehicles were absolutely safe. No one seemed to have dominion over the spots, either. I saw different cars there every morning, entirely dependent on who cared to wake up early enough. I didn’t expect it to become a habit, of course, showing up before 6:30 just to claim a parking space. But, for the first few days following the incident, it was probably a good idea (I had those occasionally).

The misty dawn wasn’t giving way to sunlight. It was probably going to rain. There was something almost secretive about the school that early, with only a few cars in the faculty lot as we crossed it. Armin took the words right out of my mouth, saying, “It’s kind of eerie right now. Like no one’s here.”

“Yeah, I was just thinking that.” The contemplative gloom was about to make me shift into the weird sort of peaceful mood that only comes from a dark, rainy day. My eyes swept across the lot and I nodded at nothing in particular.

Certain people stand out on gloomy days, like they were never meant to be part of it, and Vice Principal Smith was one of them. I’d thought it the first time I saw him, before I’d ever met Levi or knew even a whisper more about him besides his occupation: “that guy’s too handsome to be doing this job.” Handsome in the conventional sense, of course. Too handsome to be trusted. Out of his element, out of sync with the world I knew. An _adult_ in the symbolic and literal sense alike. Of course, the fact that it was _him_ didn’t help.  

Before I could look at something else, I caught his eyes across the parking lot. He was standing next to a white Supra. I might have groaned a little, recognizing it from my list of dream cars, more realistic than a Lamborghini but still just slightly less likely than an Evo. The car would normally have been the last straw on withholding my reasonable mood, but in the face of everything that had happened the night before (all of which suddenly came rushing back) it was just one more thing.

I wondered whether he wanted to say anything in particular. Not to me, of course. He didn’t know anything about me. I was just another kid to him, and a pity case at that. It would be easy for me to duck his attention, and somehow that pissed me off more. Maybe he had something to say to Armin. I tried not to think too much about the fact that he’d fucked Levi. I tried not to think of how often, and how well, and how unforgettably he’d apparently done so, and I failed. I’d heard too many things to be comfortable around him, and the fact that I saw him as a rival was laughable the more I thought about it. Too many details had already influenced the way I saw him, and even without all of that he was _still_ too bright on a dismal morning. My mind clouded with anger that I couldn’t direct anywhere.

 _He brought us together in the first place, though,_ I thought. It made me almost sick.  

“Good morning!” Armin said in Erwin’s direction.

“Shut up,” I hissed at him.

“What? Why?”

“You’ll look like a little kiss-ass, is why.” I started to head in the other direction. Armin scoffed and followed.

“You’re in a _mood_.”

“I am!” It was all I had to say. At that point, I had absolutely no interest in going to Jean’s party.

By English, I still didn’t. Not that I paid much attention to begin with, but the class seemed even more interminable than usual while my thoughts bounced everywhere, remembering everything Levi had done and said, running the same scenes and phrases over and over in my head. It wasn’t a matter of how to fix things, really. It was a matter of whether it was even worth it to try.

“Eren.” Reiner had slipped into the seat behind me. I was never sure how I felt about him, and that particular day wasn’t the time to settle my impressions about anyone. Reiner was smart, one of the smartest in our class probably. He played football and wrestled in spring. He was one of the archetypal Trost High elite that I would always be leery to exchange kind words with, despite the fact that he’d never given me any particular trouble. I ignored him at first. “Eren.”

“What?” I whispered, turning around in my chair. Maybe he needed to borrow a pencil, I had no idea.

“Are you going to the party tonight?”

My eyebrows bowed in, but I already knew I looked hostile enough. “What? What do you care?”

“I wanted to hear about how you and Mikasa laid out those guys.”

I sighed and shook my head. “I didn’t…” I hesitated. Since when had I backed down from overstating my accomplishments, especially when it came to brawling? “It’s not that interesting.”

“I heard that one of ‘em has a broken arm.”

Armin glanced up from his paper, shot me a warning expression, and refocused just as quickly. Part of me hoped that the news spreading around the school was concentrating more on the epic injuries, and less on the cause and effect.

“I don’t know, we haven’t heard anything since the other day.” I shrugged mightily and spoke just a little louder, hoping the teacher would interrupt us and that Reiner would be sent back to his seat.

“Well…” We weren’t interrupted, and Reiner went on. “If you do show up, I’d like to hear about it. In the meantime—“ he shot his finger between me and Armin, surprisingly, “—I’ve got your back.”

It was unexpected, but it definitely did the trick in getting my mind off of Levi for the time being.

Throughout the day I couldn’t help noticing the subtle things more acutely. When I heard whispers I immediately assumed they were about us, about me at the very least. Laughter made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I was chomping at the bit for someone to say the wrong thing, to even dare to utter a syllable in my direction or in Armin’s. I asked him almost hopefully (I was later ashamed to realize) whether anyone had given him trouble when we met up before our last class.

His face said it all; he was just eager for the day to be over, trying to get through it without another scene. “I’m trying not to pay attention. Seems okay. You know, I don’t think many people know what really happened.”

“All right. Good.” I was lying through my teeth, still dying to take out my aggression on something. “You want to do something after school?”

“I was going to go on over to Jean’s,” he started. “If that’s okay.”

“It’s fine. Maybe I’ll see you there later.”

“Still haven’t decided?”

“Not really.”

He owed me nothing, of course, and so _of course_ it was fine. But it was still empty, knowing that my best friend was choosing someone else’s company over mine. Being single was perfectly agreeable with me, so long as Armin was single as well.

Thinking that way, and knowing that I was powerless to stop thinking that way, just made me feel like a piece of shit.

At home, in a rare and potentially desperate display of diligence, I opened a book. We were reading The Great Gatsby in English. At the beginning of the week we’d been given our copies; we needed to finish them by the following Friday. If you asked me, we’d already been reading it for far too long. I didn’t like to read. Not anything, not ever. Not really. I’d enjoyed The Hobbitin middle school, but since then things just seemed to be getting more long-winded, more muddled in pointless wording that masked a lack of things actually happening. When I first looked at The Great Gatsby I thought “all right, at least it’s short.” Then I opened it, and realized I couldn’t figure out what was going on within the first ten pages.

I cracked it open to the first place the pages flipped and lay back on my bed, holding it above my head to try and see if any images took hold.

I wound up reading for two hours, much to my astonishment. I sucked up the prose somehow from Chapter 5 onward, reading breathlessly until I blinked away from a page somewhere in the middle of Chapter 6 to hear the phone ringing. It wound up being a telemarketer, so I hung up and wandered back to my room. It was dark outside. I’d actually gotten lost in time.

There was a worksheet – a study guide of sorts – which our teacher had given us to prepare for Monday’s quiz on the required reading. Apparently we were only supposed to read up through Chapter 6. I’d just gone beyond it. I had no idea what had come before Chapter 5, of course. But I could piece it together.

I skimmed the questions and realized I still wasn’t entirely certain, on an academic level, whether I possessed the necessary smarts to discuss themes and characters. But I kept coming back to one quote – a quote that had kept me reading, in fact. _“There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion.”_

Thoughts about Levi and thoughts about Erwin and thoughts about my own part in everything started rattling around in my head, less heavy than they’d been that morning, but more uncontrollable for it. I wasn’t a deep thinker. I didn’t like pulling conclusions out of thin air or interpreting things I didn’t know every side to. But it was strange to think of myself as being a part of something I couldn’t control, and so of course I couldn’t stop thinking about it. By late evening I realized I needed to get up, get out, get my head on straight and _do_ something or I might go crazy.

An hour later, Jean was prodding at my shoulder with the lip of an open beer bottle. “Drink.”

The party was calmer than the first I’d been to, when I was new to everything, when Armin was still single and Jean was still an asshole and I was still naïve to romantic heartbreak. Or maybe I’d imagined that, as well. Everything was sort of swimming, that night. I wasn’t hearing words right, and I certainly wasn’t speaking them any better. Jean was still sort of an asshole.

“Driiiiink,” he repeated, and laughed when I finally snatched the bottle out of his hand and gave in.

“So what’s the latest with you?” He sat beside me on the couch in one of the three rooms I would be tempted to call the living room. One was probably the den, one might have been the sitting room, another the great room – whatever the case, I’d been stuck to the same seat since I’d arrived. Nothing was interesting. People were too complicated for the moment.

Jean wasn’t one to dwell on the negative. He could have asked me how I was holding up, if Armin had said anything, if I’d heard the latest about his grandfather’s car. But no, he just wanted to know the latest.

I didn’t want to tell him. So I just shrugged. “Same old.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Fuck you. Go away.”

“No. Now I’m interested. You haven’t seemed like this since the night we first met. Who pissed in your Cheerios?” I wanted to just shove him off the couch but I knew I couldn’t.

“No one, it’s just some stuff. Personal stuff.”

He paused. “Still working on our bet?”

Immediately, I wished he hadn’t brought that up.

“I’m working on it,” I mumbled into my bottle. I’d almost hoped the whole thing had been forgotten in the face of so much drama. Jean, though, didn’t tend to forget things.

“Uhhh, I’m just saying…” He moved closer to me, smelling like a little too much Polo Sport. “Reiner’s been asking me about you. He’s already pretty drunk. I think someone might be in the _questioning_ stage, if you know what I mean. You know… if you want to take care of things tonight.”

I pulled a face and didn’t even try to hide it. “Um? Definitely not.”

“Eh, suit yourself.”

“I don’t—“ I sighed angrily. “This is the last thing I want to be talking about tonight, okay?”

Armin appeared, and not a moment too soon. I looked up at him beseechingly. I wanted his company, but I was being too mopey to keep him interested even if I had it. “Are you all right?” He asked as soon as he saw my face. “I keep thinking there’s something you need to tell me.”

“No!” I barked, because I’m stubborn and I wanted to blend in while holding everything important close to my chest until I’d sorted it out.

“It isn’t about your dad, is it?”

“No. I told you, he showed up. He left. I didn’t even see him.” I drank mightily from the beer Jean had given me. It was dark and bitter, thicker than the Natty Light being passed around among everyone else.

“Well, then, if there’s nothing, don’t be a buzzkill!” Jean laughed, trying to be pleasant, ingratiating though the effort was. He slapped me on the knee. “I’m going to go rack some balls in the game room, come on.”

I liked to play pool when I had the chance, and at least it gave me something to focus on. Reiner joined us for a game and I expertly kept my eyes from meeting his most of the time. Because he asked, Armin and I discussed the fight in the parking lot two days prior. The beer had loosened me up just enough to use it as an excuse to talk. “Come to think of it,” I suddenly started thinking out loud as I polished my cue. “Is Mikasa here?”

“She was here earlier, when the party started. She left, though,” Jean informed me.

“Hm.” I wasn’t really concerned. We sometimes managed to miss one another for days at a time, but usually not during the school year.

“I should go home soon.” A yawn slipped in after I said it, with perfect timing. I turned to Armin. “Do you need a ride?”

“I’m staying over,” he said, glancing back and forth like I was an idiot for not knowing that already.

“Gotcha. Okay, I’m out of this next game. I’m gonna go outside for a minute, get some fresh air before I take off.”

The fact that I felt a little better after a round of socializing was enough for me to call the evening a success. I needed to tap out before things turned sour. I walked out onto the long wooden deck running the back edge of Jean’s house. It looked out over the backyard, and further from that I saw the lake on the edge of his property.       

 _But who’s Gatsby?_ I wondered, looking out at the lake until I realized there didn’t have to be one. There was no green light, no dock. This was just a stupid ugly lake behind a house I didn’t even feel like I belonged in. I was extrapolating. I was finding connections between points on completely different planes.

I thought of cliché songs that talked about being under the same moon. The moon was between clouds, bright, reflecting off the lake. I wondered what Levi was doing.

Maybe I didn’t want to know.

“You know…” Boards squeaked behind me to herald Jean’s presence before I heard his voice. He was holding two more beers. He handed me one as he went on. I knew I needed to leave before things turned sour, but I took it anyway. “Sorry about earlier. That couldn’t have been the thing you wanted to hear if you’re still working on your own relationship stuff.”

I wondered if Armin had given him a piece of his mind, being of the opinion that Armin was the only reason Jean was treating me amicably in the first place.

I just shook my head. “Forget it.”

“This may sound ridiculous, but I feel like it’s wrong of me to take this stupid bet any further. Armin told me a little about it and it seems to him like you really might have something going with—“

“You don’t have the money, do you?”

Jean tilted his head at me and blinked. “Eren, I just got a SeaDoo for literally no reason. Do you know what my allowance is every month? I can damn well make the money happen but it’s _not that._ ”

“Well don’t forget, I have to prove he likes me, too. He won’t even prove that to _me_. That’s my shit to deal with. I don’t think you need to even worry.”

With a sigh, Jean tipped his beer back. I hoped he was giving up. I forgot how much he loved to talk. “The bet was a stupid idea, is all I’m saying.”

“Maybe to you. A challenge means something, to me.”

“Levi has nothing to do with the bet.”

I bristled when Jean said his name. No one else in the word felt close to our situation, close to knowing what was happening within it. They certainly weren’t even _allowed,_ as far as I was concerned, to use his name. “Are you still trying to get me to sleep with Reiner?”

“Ew, no. No, he’s a flake, I was kidding about that. Besides, he’s hairy and sort of gross in a way. I mean, if you were into buff dudes I could see, but you seem—“

I didn’t want to know what I seemed like to Jean Kirschtein. “Jean, you’re bad at feelings.”

“I am _awesome_ at feelings! This is about me telling you that Levi has nothing to do with the bet, which was stupid, and if you want to win that badly I’ll just call the car payment an early birthday present.”

“My birthday’s in May.”

“A _really_ early birthday present.”

I was tempted, certainly in part because I felt like Jean owed me something.

“You’re drunk.”

“Kind of!” He threw an arm around me and I growled lowly, too lowly for him to pay any mind. “But don’t fuck this up because of something so… trivial.”

I just kept looking at the lake. “We’re young, though, right? We’re kids, we’re supposed to fuck things up a few times before we get it right. People always move on when something better comes along, don’t they? Either that or you know they’re just settling for you. And you’re a disappointment because you’re just _okay._ Maybe I want this to be all about getting laid and fucking up, and who cares who likes me?”

Jean could have easily said something about that being his point in the first place, the first night we’d met. The fact that I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried, get someone to actually like me. But I’d said that part about people moving on, and he didn’t really listen to the rest of what I had to say. His mouth, usually ready to open right up for a lightning-quick comeback, was drawn contemplatively in a half-scowl as he looked up at the moon. I hoped I’d dredged up uncomfortable memories.

I hoped he was still hurting, too. I was a piece of shit.

“Sometimes…” He said at last. “When other people move on, you learn to move on, too. And then you really like what you find. Sometimes maybe you don’t really expect to find it so you’re not willing to believe it’s good at first.”

“But what if you know it won’t last?”

“Oh, my bad, Jaeger, you planning on living forever? You can see into the future, suddenly? Who fucking _cares_? Who cares what lasts? Things don’t last, people don’t last! But what’s up with now, what about _you_?”

“Forget it, you’re not the one I should talk to about this.” He withdrew his arm as I moved away from the railing on the deck.

“What have you done for _you_ in the last two weeks that made you happy?”

I paused. I didn’t know, so I threw it back at him. “What about you?”

Jean’s response was instant. “I played an awesome gig with my band. I applied to Notre Dame. I won a game of chess against my grandpa – the point is, I like what I do, every day!”

“Well, you’re the weird one, then! Not everyone is happy!”

“I didn’t say I’m happy! I’m just _okay._ But you know what I am sure of? I’m sure I’m the best for someone. When they move on it will never be my fault, I make sure of that, because _I like myself_.”

I turned around abruptly and started for the door. “I don’t need to hear this.”

“Yes you do!” And that was the last I heard. I’d had two beers and I was at high risk of being pulled over by Jean’s dad or his cronies, but I didn’t care. I took the main roads all the way home. I was being reckless and I knew it.

“I’m home,” I declared once I was.

“Hey,” Mikasa greeted me. _Aeon Flux_ was on TV and she was drinking something that looked delicious.

“Is that a Coke float?”

“It is.”

“I’m gonna make one, too.”

“Cool.”

Sometimes I actually fooled myself into believing we were blood related. Even halfway would have made sense. The truth is, my step-sister was what Mikasa had chosen to call herself, rather than explain too much to people who didn’t deserve to know. She never went to Child Services because she’d already come from Child Services. We became her foster family when things were still good. Before mom got sick. Before dad lost his will to try. But in the back of my mind and the bottom of my heart I always had the feeling that Mikasa and I were the real match, the real family we found in the whole mess. We kept losing people, so we were determined to keep holding onto one another, at the very least.

Being around her grounded me. Even when she teased me and even when we fought, I was still thankful that at the end of the day I could always make a Coke float and sit next to her on the couch, tell her about how I’d read a couple of chapters of The Great Gatsby, and ask her about practically anything.

“How was the party after I left?” She asked eventually.

“Kind of lame, really.”

“Yeah.”

“So you just came right home?”

“I did.”

I couldn’t make my mouth open to talk about what was troubling me. No one was getting it out of me, or was I simply not ready to let go of it? I entertained the possibility that I was ashamed. That made the most sense.

Liquid Televisionwas over. Beavis and Butt-head was starting. I watched it only up until I realized I recognized the song on one of the videos they were riffing. It was straight from the tape Levi made for me. “Going to bed,” I announced to Mikasa, but she called for me before I left the room.

I came back to grab my glass. “Okay, okay, I’ll put it in the sink. Give me yours, too.”

“No, not that. What’s wrong?”

She gave me the chance.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I’m going to bed.”

I was definitely ashamed.

One of the three bulbs in my overhead lamp crackled and burned out when I turned on the light in my room. That left one. I always waited until all the bulbs were burned out to replace any, and even then I usually just took one from a lamp I didn’t really ever use and got what I could out of that until I finally got up the initiative to walk to the dollar store for more light bulbs.

I stood in the doorway of my room and glanced around. On my bed were the sheets I’d half-fitted to the mattress after washing them, swearing every day I’d make the bed properly when I got home. It had been a week. I had a small writing desk I was supposed to use for studying. Clothes were piled in the chair. My backpack was thrown on the floor and had only been opened to take out the book I’d been reading. The Food Lion bag from Levi’s was still sitting ceremoniously between the bed and the door. Knowing already that I wanted to open it properly at last, I grabbed it and sat on the edge of the mattress, sighing because I knew it was going to either make me sad or piss me off. Probably both.

The first t-shirt looked new, felt new in that stiff way, had probably been slipped on once and then forgotten about. The logo on the front was for Hole. I only sort of liked Hole, because no one seemed to like Courtney Love after Kurt Cobain died. I’d wear it around the house. Maybe Mikasa liked Hole.

There was one Cure shirt, and one for Joy Division. The last was for a band I’d never heard of called Roxy Music, and I liked it best. The logo looked like a two-headed eagle and I would have been lying to say it didn’t remind me at least a little of the tattoo on Levi’s back.

The fabric felt soft, worn-in like a great t-shirt should. It didn’t look like it was too big for Levi. I glanced around the room like someone might be there to embarrass me by seeing before I pulled the neck of the shirt up to my nose and sniffed it.

No, this was definitely not a shirt that had just been too big for him. Even with the fragrance of laundry detergent obvious on the cotton, Levi’s smell was all over it, and my stomach flip-flopped to think that I already knew his scent so well.

I was unconcerned with the jeans. I moved those aside and thought I’d exhausted my sad, stupid little bounty, but true to his indirect personality Levi had placed a note at the bottom of the bag.

“Shit,” I hissed, and my heartbeat flew into an immediate frenzy as I reached in to pluck it up. It wasn’t on fine stationery – it wasn’t even really on a sheet of proper paper. It was the back of a used window envelope. His paycheck had probably been mailed in it. I shook my head slightly, trying not to think too much about his personality. His handwriting was all sharp lines and barely decipherable curves to denote letters. I had to read it three times to be sure of what it said.

_Eren,_

_There’s some Roxy Music on the tape I gave you but I don’t expect you to know shit about them otherwise. Just know this is my favorite shirt and I’m giving it to you because you need a good band t-shirt. If you mistreat it or rip it or anything I will rip your throat out. Okay, that’s all I wanted to say. Make sure you empty the pockets on the jeans before you wear them (I wanted that part to be a surprise but you’re pretty much an idiot so I’m just going to tell you)._

_Levi,_ he signed it with long bottom edge on the L and a deep point on the V.

With a sidelong glance at the jeans still folded neatly next to me, I tightened my hand around the note, wanting to crumble it up and forget about it because none of those sentiments meant anything anymore. I didn’t need to empty the pockets, I didn’t need to know what sort of surprise Levi’s mind had come up with.

But I wanted to.

I unfolded them at the waist and noticed the thicker pocket, slipped my fingers inside and felt satin.

My eyes went wide and my nostrils flared. I knew already what was in that pocket, because Levi was artistic and creative and maybe romantic, but he was also unapologetically sexual and more than a little dirty-minded. I didn’t need to empty the pocket; I didn’t deserve it. That wasn’t for me anymore.

Instead I left everything on the edge of the bed, crawled to my pillow, and shamefully held Levi’s shirt next to my head, knowing full well that I didn’t deserve that either but having no other way to calm myself to sleep.  

I slept in, and slept in longer, pretended to be asleep when I heard the phone ring, got out of bed to put my headphones on before I crawled back into bed, listened to the radio, essentially did nothing.

Nothing continued even after I pulled myself from bed. TV kept me company and Pizza Rolls kept me fed. Nothing lasted right up until Mikasa came home.

“Hey,” I greeted her.

“What did you do today?”

In lieu of actually answering I just chuckled and spread my arms out to indicate the couch, the fact that I was still wearing boxer shorts, and the three empty paper plates. She snorted and walked between me and the coffee table, tousling my hair on the way.

“We’re out of ice cream, by the way. This is like the third Coke float I’ve made,” I told her.

“Good job.”

“What about you?” I asked her.

“Went out. The old bank parking lot downtown, that’s where a lot of people are skating now, so I hung out there for a while.” She was holding a styrofoam cup and moving the straw around as she sat down, to dredge the last traces of soda from between the ice.

“What time is it?”

“Like, 8.”

“Wow, I have done exactly nothing all day.” I felt sort of accomplished for that, because at least I hadn’t fucked anything else up. 

Mikasa watched a few minutes of Frasier with me, but I couldn’t’ help noticing that she was still sitting on the edge of the couch. Finally, she cleared her throat. “I went to the donut shop before it closed.”

I nearly choked on my drink, and just waited for her to go on. Then I realized that she was waiting for _me_ to reply.

“Oh god,“ I started, wiping a bit of ice cream from my mouth. “Please don’t tell me you went right in with a threat.”

“Kind of.” She finally relaxed into the couch and brought both feet up onto the cushion, holding her knees close to her chest. She didn’t tell me details because she didn’t need to. I could practically imagine Mikasa walking up to the window, pointing at Levi and saying _we need to talk about my brother_. “His reaction threw me off, though.”

I made a noise because a noise was really all I could manage. Mikasa looked at me and it was the _calm_ in her expression that made me feel like I was somehow in for it. I could feel the aura coming off of her, and realized that the threat, for some reason, had turned toward me.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” she said. “I know enough. And if my stupid little brother’s breaking some dude’s heart – which I was stupid for never considering, because that is just _so_ you – it’s my responsibility to step in and stop you from being a dildo.”

“Wait.” I threw that in very strongly, and Mikasa did.

She looked at me, still very serene.

“Me breaking whose heart now, _what_? What?”

“I’m supposed to take you out tonight,” she informed me.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things here – One, if you haven’t read the minisodes/asides that I’ve been posting on Tumblr I’d like to direct you to their existence. One’s [an indulgent bit of Levi/Erwin backstory](http://jeanye-west.tumblr.com/post/57538577129/ficlet-1994-erwin-levi-backstory-aside), one’s [Ymir and Christa meeting](http://jeanye-west.tumblr.com/post/57392712127/ficlet-1994-ymir-christa-aside), and one’s [an almost necessary glimpse into Erwin’s take on the situation that may or may not make you want to punch the first person you see because, well, feels](http://jeanye-west.tumblr.com/post/58315817825/ficlet-1994-erwin-aside). So yeah check it out, yo! Two, I’ve gone with Nanaba as male identifying, gender-wise, though he is also in Levi’s esteemed line of work soooo. 
> 
> You guys beat me up with this one, let me tell you. Can I maybe request just a bit more patience maybe idek kudasai, work is killing me :( But this story makes me happy! :D I just don't want the quality to suffer and also I'm getting only three hours of sleep just so I can finish and post this chapter.

“What the hell is that? What did you do?”

I was hesitant to respond. Luckily I’d been on Mikasa’s right side while we drove, but sitting down once we entered the Bent Ducat left her quite open to see the ugly red mark near my mouth. She reached over like she was going to rub it off, and I intercepted her hand with a graceful karate chop motion. “I cut myself shaving before we left,” I said as softly as I could over the music.

She gave me a pouting, pitiful smile and was unable to suppress a laugh after a moment or two. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even know you shaved yet.”

“Keep your voice down. We share a bathroom, how didn’t you figure that out?”

Mikasa didn’t dress up, electing to stay in her favorite overalls and the Bongo shirt she’d worn to go skating. She was along for moral support and a show. I, on the other hand, found myself obsessing a little too much over what to wear. “A t-shirt and jeans,” she kept telling me from the hallway, eager to get going.

So I wound up, after three other options, in a t-shirt and jeans. Not his jeans, no. That would have been too much. I grilled her while I pulled the Roxy Music shirt over my head, demanding to know what Levi had said, and Mikasa advised that she wasn’t about to divulge anything that would give me an unfair advantage. I tried to plead my case, of course, but she wouldn’t even tell me what I was supposedly defending myself against. She did, however, tell me to throw a flannel on over the shirt, because it was cold out.

In a rare turn of events, I thought I looked okay, even if I felt like my stomach was about to go rogue and jump right out of my throat.

Hanji was busy at the door when I entered, but she ushered me inside with a knowing look. “I like your dress,” I muttered as she put a red stamp on my hand.

“Thanks,” she said, looking down for a moment to remember what she was wearing. It was a plain black dress with a high neck and a thick belt around the waist. With her glasses and knee-high boots, she looked like Lisa Loeb. There were people entering behind us already, but Hanji leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad to you see you again.”

All I could think about, though, once we were seated, was the cut on my cheek. “It’s, um… I mean, it’s not that bad,” Mikasa tried to assure me.

We’d placed ourselves close to the stage, at Mikasa’s urging. Again, I asked her if there was anything she needed to tell me. ”No,” she insisted. “Levi wanted you to come see him tonight, so we’re here. You’re with me, relax. Now shut up or I’ll start calling you Nicky.”

“ _Nicky?_ Really? Are you 12?”

The crowd at the Bent Ducat was thick and lively, and only grew during the hour. Time passed slowly for me, but of course it would have. Had word reached Levi, wherever he was tucked away backstage, that I’d arrived? Was I special enough that Hanji would even tell him? Was Hanji being strangely detached for some reason when she wandered by to talk, or was that just me projecting worries on a legitimately busy club owner who had more important things to do?

The last time I’d seen Hanji, I remembered, she’d taken care of me while Levi wandered off to have sex with someone else. Maybe she was just being as sympathetic as possible.

Maybe she still knew nothing. It had only been two days, after all. Of course it was my entire world; it didn’t need to be anyone else’s, nor did I expect it to be. I just put my faith in Mikasa to keep me interested enough in anything else so I wouldn’t start thinking too much.

The show began at 11:00. The longer I’d sat there attempting small talk with the few people she introduced me to, the harder my leg began to fidget, bouncing on heel below the table while my nerves ratcheted up and I kept catching the scent of Levi’s shirt on my body. Finally, though, the music switched off, the shitty sound system crackled on, and the lights on the stage went up.

I took a deep breath, even knowing that Tirne des Ailes wouldn’t be taking the stage immediately.

The MC wasn’t the same old man from the first night I’d been at the Bent Ducat. Quite the opposite, actually. To the obvious excitement of the crowd, a blonde beauty took the stage, spangled dress swinging with long beaded layers where it wasn’t hugging her figure lovingly. She was about Levi’s age, by my best guess, but it was difficult to tell with the amount of makeup she was wearing. Blue shadow swept up to her eyebrows and her lips were a show-stopping fire engine red. Levi’s makeup had looked practically _natural_ by comparison.

Regardless, she was gorgeous, and I had to smile.

“It’s Nana. Well, Baby Nana, technically, but I just call her Nana,” Mikasa leaned over to inform me. “She’s hilarious. Super nice, too.”

Baby Nana commanded the stage as she walked it, and her voice was loud enough that she barely needed a microphone to reach the entire room. I wasn’t quite looking forward to having to wait when all I really wanted to see was Levi’s performance, but I couldn’t help being entertained.

“They tell me I’m an opening act for Tirne des Ailes now,” she said a few minutes into her bit, and stopped with a hand on her hip to make an unimpressed face. There were a few jeers, a few whoops from the crowd. “That’s cute, that’s cute. Because if we’ve all heard right, no one’s _opening_ for Tirne, if you know what I mean.”

I actually gaped into a laugh, and next to me Mikasa threw her head back to guffaw.

Nana turned, hand still on her hip, and seemed to be yelling backstage, ostensibly to Tirne. “Honey, you’re so tiny!” A beat. “Where do you put it all?”

I was blushing in spite of myself.

“But I don’t want to be like Tirne… she’s too classy, too quiet. I want to be like Tonya Harding.” There were a few boos, and Lady Nana looked genuinely shocked. “Hear me out, hear me out. Tonya Harding is a perfect bitch. She hasn’t taken shit from anyone, and continues to do whatever the fuck she wants. She’s our generation’s Evita – she’s working class, slutty, not a natural blonde, and will probably be played by Patti Lupone on Broadway someday.” I didn’t really get it, but I still laughed.

Following the routine, she performed one song before announcing the main event. Nana had managed to put me at ease with her sunny disposition and high-energy showmanship, but once the name Tirne des Ailes was spoken I was done for. I felt my whole body tense immediately, not knowing what to expect. Having so many people around me applauding for the appearance of Levi’s alter-ego made me feel strange as well. Was it right to have a feeling of possessiveness for someone I’d known so briefly? I didn’t even know Tirne yet, I reminded myself. She had more fans than I’d ever considered before; people who obviously loved her for the entertainment she provided, the beauty she embodied. Even Jean had called her a local legend. And yet Levi seemed so fundamentally alone. Did I consider myself lucky to have his attention, or was it something else?

I needed one of Levi’s trademark moments of blunt insight, but instead I had Tirne des Ailes entering from between the drawn curtains hip-first, winding up to the opening lines of the song. By now I recognized “Kiss Them for Me.” Levi hadn’t given me the song, and I couldn’t afford an album, so I called my favorite DJ one night and requested it. Even after recording it off the radio when it finally played, I could only decipher half of the words. Tirne appeared to have known them since birth.

The only other performance I’d seen from her had been quiet and sensual, giving her adequate chance to move and look beautiful but none to smile or seem like the firecracker Levi had described to me. Tirne was smiling by the second line of the song, pointing at Baby Nana on the side of the stage when she sang the line _“now you’re the prettiest by far”_ and cruelly turning the finger back in on herself to a round of cheers.

Seeing him smile – seeing her smile – drew me into a different world. The dress, I knew very well. The silver sparkles took me back to the uncomfortable encounter that ended our Thursday night, but seeing it fitted around Tirne’s body, lights dancing on it as she tromped across the stage in those obscene red heels, I couldn’t linger on the negative. She flirted with our side of the stage but still did not acknowledge me directly, accepting a five dollar bill from Mikasa before turning to let dark curls bounce over her shoulders. I couldn’t help feeling like we were purposefully being ignored. I wanted a better chance to see her face, whether or not I could stand it.

Another song started as soon as the first was over. I was half-expecting another song by Siouxsie Sioux, but instead I turned to Mikasa and murmured “No way,” when “Rhythm is Gonna Get You” started.

“Tirne really likes Gloria Estefan,” she explained, and quickly returned her attention to the stage.

Maybe Ihad been a little presumptive to assume Levi hadn’t taken any dance training. Maneuvering in heels was difficult enough, in my eyes, but Tirne managed to move above and beyond the call of duty. Tight, precise movements, hips swiveling with tiny kicks and bounces thrown in that proved how light on her feet she actually was. Most impressively, though, she was smiling. I didn’t know how to feel.   

The song ended and she grinned breathlessly to accept the applause. Nana reached up to hand Tirne the microphone, and my heart seized. I had no idea we’d actually be listening to Tirne speak; that was my naivete once again showing itself, but at least I hadn’t had time to become a nervous wreck over the possibility.

“Thanks,” she said, primly but heavily, still trying to catch her breath even as she went on. There wasn’t much affectation to her voice; she still sounded a lot like Levi. That was just like him, though, to take a character only so far. “Thank you so much. Wow, there’s a bit of a crowd here tonight. Now, I’m a modest girl.” There was laughter at that. “So it’s hard for me to believe you’re all here for me.” She paused, and shook her head slowly. “That was not the way I meant to word that.” She lowered the microphone to the side and glared out at the crowd as they laughed, barely withholding a grin, tongue held between her teeth. When she spoke again she waved a halting hand before pressing it primly to the center of her chest. “No, no, there’s a fundamental misunderstanding here – I’m a lady! I’m not rude like some people. Now, what I meant to say is, I’m flattered so many of you came for me tonight.” Another pause. “Okay, that one was on purpose. Nana thinks she’s the only one who can do comedy around here. So, I have one more in me tonight--” Half of the crowd seemed disappointed, and the other half laughed. Tirne bit her tongue again. “That’s not entirely true, if the night goes well enough it’s going to be a lot more than that. Anyway, this is another new song. Someone told me once before, ‘Tirne, don’t do ballads, they’re boring’, and do you know what I told them?” A beat. “’Mom, fuck you.’ So here we go.”   

I was laughing too much to be nervous, which was probably a good thing. If I’d thought about it more, I might have had one of my moments of intuition. I might have pieced it together before the stage lights dimmed and I heard the song start.

Mikasa noticed the sharp breath I sucked in, the tiny little squeak that I let out. “Is everything okay?” She asked me.

“I don’t know,” I answered, as she reached over and handed me a few dollars.

“Well, here. At least tip her, she’s working her ass off tonight.”

I just nodded, not really listening to Mikasa while Tirne’s mouth moved around the words _“I hear the ticking of the clock…”_ and I struggled to remember how to breathe.  

I couldn’t say how many times I’d listened to that one song in the last 48 hours. I knew the words very well, but seeing them framed by rust-red lips made them so much more potent. I wondered how much of it was acting, as Tirne’s face contorted in a moment of what seemed to be genuine desperation just before the chorus.

Her eyebrows tightened and she looked positively vicious, more beautiful than I’d imagined, far too beautiful to keep my breath as she finally looked directly at me with one sharp turn. _“I never really cared until I met you.”_

My fingers felt numb for a split-second as all the blood rushed to my head. I forgot how to move, and luckily Mikasa reached over to lift my hand with the three dollars in it. Tirne deserved more than that, of course – much more – but I was hardly thinking. She started to move toward us and kept her eyes on mine, almost like she was daring me to look away as she knelt down. It was as powerful as holding a kiss, and just like a kiss it took my breath away. The chorus ended and she was close enough to lean over as she took the bills from my hand, making sure that her soft fingers lingered on mine in the process.

Should I have mouthed “I’m sorry”? Should I have been waiting for Tirne to do the same? Would it be the same as waiting for that moment with Levi, face-to-face, alone?

She fell to her knees at the center of the stage for the climax of the song and I actually believed she was the one hitting the wailing high note. My heart soared up for a moment that might have been adrenaline peaking, carried along by her performance. Whatever the case, Tirne des Ailes managed to show me, through a mask of thick fake eyelashes and foundation, what I hadn’t actually brought myself to believe in the weeks I’d slowly been getting to know Levi. I considered the possibility that he might not have been able to show me while wearing his own skin.     

The song ended and she exited the stage with a few bows, several more tips, and not another glance my way.

I finally looked over at Mikasa, with no idea what sort of expression I was wearing.

“You’re a fool if you think this is one-sided,” she told me bluntly. No need to hear anything else about what Levi had told her. No need to plead my case.

We sat in silence for a few tense minutes. Part of me wondered if Mikasa planned to beat sense into me, even though I’d nodded at her assessment. I was nervous again, because _what now?_

Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I jumped in my seat like a ghost had appeared behind me.

Baby Nana, not quite a ghost in her jewels and beads and high blonde up-do, was smiling sweetly at me when I turned around. “Honey, I’ve been told to fetch you.”

“Fetch me?” I gulped hard.

She took stock of me with a warm expression, reading my nervousness and reacting to it well. “Yes, honey, come on. You know who wants to see you, now come on.”

I took her hand, which boasted long pink fingernails and three glittering cocktail rings. Though shaky, I managed to get up and out of my chair. I turned to Mikasa. “Are you--?”

“I’m fine, Eren; go.” She didn’t even look at me. I thought for a moment that she might be upset, but with the last glance I threw her way, I saw her smiling. 

I was led to a door tucked away beside the stage. NO ADMITTANCE was stenciled in white, but like the sign on the front door it had mostly chipped off over the years. Nana opened it for me and held it with one arm, ushering me ahead of her with a flourish.

I expected to be in a dressing room immediately,  but the hallway ahead seemed to go on and on, occasionally accented by a door to the right or left. It felt like I’d stumbled into someone’s home, especially when Nana closed us inside and the noise from the club became dull background noise.

She threw pointing fingers this way and that. “Greenroom there. Stage door right here. That’s storage. That’s a bathroom. That hallway… I think it leads to more storage, I don’t know. This place is weird.” Long fingers curled on my shoulder and she stopped me, pointing past my shoulder to the spot where the hallway veered off to the right. “When you turn there, Tirne’s dressing room is the first door on the right. Go get ‘em, cutie.”

With a giggle she patted me on the back, and I just put one foot in front of the other until I made it to my destination.

I’d barely knocked once before I was told to come in, so I pushed the door open slowly and poked my head inside. I must have looked like a scared puppy. At least it made Tirne laugh, from where she was sitting in a plain metal chair facing me.

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice even closer to Levi’s than it had been onstage.       

I slipped inside and closed the door softly behind, pressing myself against the door as the latch clicked into place. A few seconds passed and I couldn’t help noting that they weren’t nearly as uncomfortable as I’d figured.

“Hi.” I was surprised to find my voice, but there it was.

She tilted her head at me in polite acknowledgement, which was more than I could ever say Levi had done. “Hi there,” was the soft, diplomatic reply. There was a slight turn of mischief to that tone.

With no idea what to say, I just looked at her, at the thick, dark curls that fell just past her shoulders and the perfectly pallid smoothness of her face. She laughed quietly, almost self-consciously, and crossed her legs as she glanced away from me. One leg slid smoothly right over the other, both feet nearly touching the floor when the pose was complete.

“You look beautiful,” I finally said. Tirne looked right back up at me.

“Do I, really?” She glanced at the mirror, and smiled in a way that indicated she wasn’t only concerned with the reflection. “Thank you. I like your shirt.”

“Thanks, it was a gift.” After that, I had to say it. “This feels weird.”

“Does it?”

“It’s like I don’t know you right now.”

“Well, what do you want to know? Sit down. I’ll tell you.” I was offered the chair beside her. I sat sideways and leaned over my knees, still a little stupefied, still nervous as hell.

“I don’t know. I guess… are you French?” I went with my first thought, still speaking quietly so I wouldn’t disturb the peaceful silence of the dressing room too much.  

Seeing a smile on that face would never seem quite right to me, but it was interesting too look at Tirne’s face and dissect the decoration to get to what Levi would look like with the same grin. I wondered what could make that grin happen. I quietly made it into a goal.

“Half. My mother was a maid in New Orleans. My father was the master of the house. He was also a killer. I was raised like I never had a father, and my mother taught me the terrible secrets of the estate.” A theatrical flair took over her tone, then. “I learned how to dispose of bodies before I kissed my first boy. And it was that boy I took pity on, and tried to warn him of his fate. But my father… who didn’t know he was my father… still murdered him.” She paused, and one eyebrow lifted slyly as she looked at me. “So I returned the favor. At 16 I fled with blood on my hands, never looking back, and I took my father’s last name as one last fuck you to the nightmare that raised me. Every day I wonder if I’m destined to repeat the legacy of mayhem, but I’ve done well outrunning my demons.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “That’s intense.”

Her voice dropped considerably, and without being told explicitly I somehow knew that I was hearing from Levi again for a moment. “I was 16 years old and I wanted to do a French maid who murdered people, this is what I ended up with under the influence of too many vampire novels.”

I snickered, a little more at ease, studying my hands until I felt eyes on me and looked back up. “You’re not a vampire, too, are you?”

“I used to be, but I thought that was a little too over the top.” She reached up to play with her earrings, and added, “Especially since I’m known for my ability to hold character.”

“I really…” Hesitation gripped me and I didn’t know what the right words were. “I really enjoyed the show.”

“I think it was worth three dollars.”

“I’m poor!”

Tirne reached over and touched my chin, swiping her thumb on it teasingly. “I know. That was rude of me. Thank you for showing up.” 

“I like you,” I said, nodding. Honestly, I did. But she wasn’t Levi. A part of him, yes, but she wasn’t the person I’d fallen for. Tirne grinned at me, and glanced away with a devilish smirk.

“I know someone who likes _you_.”

My heart fluttered. “I think I know who you mean.”

Tirne leaned forward, and placed two fingers on my lips. I sat up, shocked by the touch, and moved farther back as she got closer. “Close your eyes,” she urged me gently.

I did.

Her painted lips brushed against mine and I smelled powder and the almost-stale smell of her wig. Beneath that, though, I caught Levi’s scent. “I’m going to change,” a deep voice rumbled near my ear, and maybe I moaned a bit as she pulled away. I wondered if she’d caught sight of the nick on my cheek. “You can wait right outside if you like.”

We still hadn’t apologized, but something was expectant in every word nonetheless. I felt shaky as I left the room, and the door bumped me on the ass just slightly when it was closed behind me. Left in the hallway, I wondered what the hell I was going to do until Levi was ready to see me again. Fidgeting, I hovered near the dressing room like a leashed pet for what seemed like ten minutes. I was grateful when I heard a door open a few feet away. Any distraction was welcome.

Nana caught sight of me immediately when she appeared, and she struck a coquettish pose as we faced off. “Hello.”

Expectation practically dripped from her voice, so I couldn’t help laughing nervously at my feet. “Hey.”

“So you’re the one who did all the damage.” She walked closer, smile still on her face, and gave me a thorough appraisal with her eyes. “You’re adorable; no wonder.”

“Um, thanks? But… damage?”

With a half-roll of her eyes, Nana leaned against the wall and explained softly. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing bad. But apparently you did this… _thing…_ where Levi suddenly realizes he needs to shape up or go it alone. You know? I don’t know if you’ve been there yet, in your life, but that’s a turning point. We’ve been drag sisters for years. He’s never reached this point before. I mean, apparently lots has been happening with him, but—“

I thought of how little I’d actually done, and weighed it with how much had happened that I’d had nothing to do with. Things which he’d obviously told no one about. “No, I think you’ve got it wrong. I didn’t… I’m just…“

Nana leaned closer. “I saw the look on his face when he told me go out front and get you, honey. That’s a good look.”

When the door next to me opened and Levi summoned me back inside, I felt more burden than excitement.

He was wearing a black robe that was tied loosely at the waist, and his face was still pink and a bit splotchy from being washed. His hair, crushed and misshapen by the wig, held a strange wave in place of the usual careful part down the center. I thought it looked sexy, but I wasn’t about to tell him as much. Sexy wasn’t where my mind needed to leap yet, not until I knew we were on equal footing.

“I’m mad at you,” Levi greeted me.

“I’m pretty pissed off at me, too.”

“Do you want to know why I’m mad at you?” He tightened the sash around his waist before taking the same seat as before.  

“This probably has something to do with me being a little shit.”

“You’re always a little shit. This doesn’t change that. But I want to know, what was your take on it? What did you _glean_ from what happened the other night?”

I sighed deeply and wanted to go back to exchanging nervous smiles with Tirne des Ailes the Vampire Slayer. “I talk too much and I assume more than I should.”

Levi nodded. “Yeah, but what did you think about how I reacted?”

I didn’t expect to be asked that, so of course I had no answer. “I… I guess you had every reason. I mean, I was being stupid.”

“No, Eren,” he was holding fingers against his cheekbones and was looking away from me, toward the mirror. “I mean, yes you were being a little stupid, maybe, but you were also fucking _right.”_

My heart bottomed out. _Oh, god no._

He shook his head firmly and tsk-ed. At me? At himself? “But it’s all right. You called me out on something toxic and I’m hell-bent on getting it out of my system. So I got pissed off because I thought I’d already ruined that, and wow. Shit. It felt like you’d stomped on my heart a few dozen times once I had enough sober moments to think about it. So yeah. I’m mad at you. I’m mad at you because I’m supposed to be older and wiser and—“

“Levi, I’m really sorry to interrupt, but if this is going to end in you telling me to never see you again, I’d really rather leave now.”

With an empty, stunned look that took me by surprise, Levi sat in silence as the next few seconds ticked by. “ _No_ ,” he finally said, loudly and emphatically. “What makes you – I can’t – wow, _no_. Fucking sit right there, you’re not going anywhere.”

“Okay,” I mumbled, feeling a bit abject.

“Great, now you’ve thrown off my train of thought. Shit, whatever. This isn’t going the way I imagined it would in my head, when I played out the whole scene. Maybe I should get back in drag, but hell if I’m spending another thirty minutes doing that.”

He fidgeted with his earrings when he wasn’t smoking, I noticed, and he kept taking his fingernails away from his mouth like he was trying to break a secondary habit as well.

“I don’t think conversations are supposed to play out the way we imagine.”

“Hn.”

“Well, for instance, I didn’t even think you’d ever talk to me again after we first met. I had no idea I was going to kiss you that night we drove out to the field--”

Like I’d suddenly popped the cork on some special reserve, Levi took that as a cue. “I didn’t want to kiss you because I only liked the way he kissed me, before. But then you kissed me, and it felt really good, and I was confused. I was scared to fall for you because I wanted something I couldn’t have.”

I nodded, taking that in, remembering all my insecurities about being second best, the vitriol I’d thrown at Jean. “So you couldn’t have it.”

“So I decided I didn’t _want_ it.” He glanced away quickly when I looked up in shock. He’d have seen the disbelief apparent on my face if he kept watching me. “I thought about it a lot, over the last couple of days. I know it wasn’t long, but I’m not getting any younger and you’ll figure out you could get someone much better than me if I let you go for too long…“

I didn’t respond and he may have taken it as a rejection of what seemed to have been a half-baked declaration. I wasn’t in the mood for almost. I’d been confused for over a month, and we were finally alone. “Hey.” Some time to think had passed, and I had a thought. “Um. This might sound weird, but—“

“You always sound weird. Go for it.”

“When we were talking that one night, about sex. About bottoming and stuff? You said you like it to hurt, and that’s because you’re fucked up.”

“Yeah,” he answered flippantly. “Trust me, you don’t want a footlong coming anywhere near your ass unless you’re a special sort of masochist.”

“Yeah, but—“ I paused when I actually thought about what he’d said, and for a frame of reference I put my hands up in quick measurement, looking incredibly uncomfortable as I did.

“I’m exaggerating for comic effect,” he assured me softly, and leaned forward to push my hands closer together. That simple touch worked magic in alleviating a lot of the tension, just his hands on mine for a split-second, and I was grateful. I was still a little flabbergasted, though, at the space between my hands and the implication of that. Catching my expression, Levi laughed in his throat. “Yeah, good luck trying not to look at Smith’s crotch next time you see him.”

I gulped and tried to forget about that. I’d almost convinced myself that, by the law of manhood, a new sports car and a massive penis couldn’t exist in the same place, but apparently I was wrong.

“Go on!” Levi snapped the air in front of me, trying to break me out of my grimace. “Go on, you looked like you were close to a breakthrough.”

“You like to get hurt.” I blurted it out as simply as I could, before I had a chance to overthink it. “I think you might just be… I don’t know, addicted to it. I mean in your heart, too.”

He thought about that, and tried to seem casual about doing so. Some eye makeup was still stuck to his lids, making his lashes seem heavier than usual as they fluttered together a few times. “I knew you’d go all poetic when I got you hooked on Bauhaus.”

“It’s romantic, though. Like you said, you’re a romantic. Because when someone hurts you, physically, you can say it feels good because the pain goes along with something good, like with sex, and it just feels more intense and powerful for that. Same for relationships, though, right? Same for emotions.”

I paused for a long time.

“Go on,” he almost but not quite sounded upset again.

“You thought I was unfair; stupid. You thought I hurt you because you say I read you right. I was unfair, yeah. I was stupid, a little, but only because you made being hurt sound so damned romantic in the first place.”

He gulped, not looking at me. I went on, a rush taking over as I realized I was on a roll. “I thought I could never be as good as him for you, even if you were hurting, so I didn’t want to even bother trying. Then you just kept coming for me…”

“I was _pining,”_ he interrupted bluntly.

“You don’t love him.” Half question, half demand.

Levi didn’t answer me, but honestly he didn’t need to. “This whole hurting thing is layered, though. It hurt because he deceived me, and then I hurt more because I didn’t know if the physical was worth never having the emotional. And I met you, and I know how painful it can be to know someone who’s pining, so I didn’t want to let you get close, but then you got close anyway, so I was _mad_ , so I decided to try you on physically and then… I felt guilty. Weirdly. So I wanted to try you on emotionally. And you… you called me out. You fucking called me out when I was ready to take that step, and it slapped me in the face.”

He went quiet.

It was my turn to prompt him. Coldly. “Go on.”

“I respect the way you reacted.”

Respect was a word I never thought I’d hear from him.

A look passed between us, simply but unmistakably telling me that I wouldn’t get such a strong assurance again. He glanced away.

“And no. I definitely don’t love him.”

There it was.

“I like you,” I said. “I want… someone to like me back. And I like you.”

It sounded so simple in retrospect, but I’d laid my soul bare. I felt sick to my stomach while Levi’s eyes turned dark and his thin brows bowed in. “I’d make a shitty boyfriend, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“If not that, then what else are we getting at?” I was getting agitated, and he could sense it.

He sighed and closed his eyes slowly. “What does a boyfriend do?”

“Do you really want me to—“ the question felt too silly to answer, yet the way he’d asked was so harsh that it begged some validation.

“What,” he cut me off, “does a boyfriend do?”

“I don’t know! I’ve never had one!”

“I’m actually asking you! You think mine have been normal in any way?” He shot back, and then ran a hand up through his hair gruffly. His arms tightened across his chest like Levi was trying to shrink into himself. “I have no fucking clue what a relationship looks like and I don’t want to fuck you up in that area before you’re even legal.”

“Well, I know what I want.” I was stubborn. I was determined not to let his self-pity derail what we were both being so dodgy about.

“You already told me what you want. You want someone to like you.”

“That’s not all.”

“Tell me.”

“I want to bring you actual food at work, real food so you don’t have to eat hot dogs and donuts every night. And I want to just be in the same room as you and work on whatever I need to do for school, and just have you there. That sounds like some real lame shit, but that’s what I want. Maybe I can’t pay for your apartment or get you out of trouble – hell, I’m getting you _in_ trouble, just being around – but I really _want_ to be around.”

It took everything out of me to say what I said next, but I did it. Because I realized I was in the rare position of not being too proud. “I’m sorry.”

Levi’s eyes flicked up at me immediately. My mouth kept running, and I said the first thing that his challenging glare pulled out of me. “I’m sorry, okay? And now that I’ve said it, you’re going to take me home tonight.”

A single eyebrow arched severely over that challenging glare, just as I realized what I’d actually said.

“Glad to see you acting like yourself again,” he said.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look what I brought, everyone! It's smut~~! 
> 
> Also there's a [Jean/Armin Aside](http://jeanye-west.tumblr.com/post/58635322434/ficlet-1994-jean-armin-aside) if you want some fluff as an aperitif.
> 
> Thanks still for all the support, remember how awesome you are always.

I leapt to sexy at last. He said that and my mind forgot about all the other bullshit, all the other obstacles, and I leap-frogged over Levi being beautiful, being graceful, blunt, tactless, impenetrable; none of it mattered as much in that moment. From where I sat, close enough to see his pupils dilate slightly as we met eyes, he was just sexy. What I read in magazines or heard on TV referred to as “animal magnetism”… that must have been it.

I’d been eaten up with worry for two days and hadn’t taken nearly enough time to reflect on the memory of his lips around my dick. It made it very difficult to concentrate on details like telling Mikasa I wouldn’t be riding home with her.

“I figured on that,” she said, drinking a margarita that I later found out was non-alcoholic. “Have a good night.”

Somehow her tone didn’t denote “good-bye,” nor did the way she was looking at me. It was okay, my mind was already there. I sighed and cringed, looking away. “Can we just forget the fact that you know I’m about to lose my virginity, which is weird enough, and I’ll just Vulcan mind-meld the fact that yeah, I’m gonna be careful?”

“Okay.” That was all she wanted to know. She let it go.

I hesitated at the door when I returned to it. I still didn’t feel confident about walking right in when I obviously didn’t belong there, but as I hesitated awkwardly I took a few steps in the direction of courage. _Yeah, you do. They know you. You were asked here, even._

Still, it was oddly exhilarating to step through a door marked NO ADMITTANCE on my own, and a nervous smile started to pull at my lips while I walked back to Levi’s dressing room.

My intentions were obvious when I reappeared, but he halted me. I noted that he’d already gotten dressed. “Don’t kiss me until we leave,” he said, getting close enough that it was my only thought, and damn him for stopping me. “If I start kissing you now we’re not getting out of here, and I’m not about to let this happen in a back room at the Bent Ducat. Got it?”

The fluttery smile came back as my doubt that Levi might not be on the same page faded all at once. He caught it, and added, “Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”

In his car, though, I couldn’t hold myself back. My hand wandered to his leg despite a couple of half-growling protests, and I leaned up to almost land a nervous kiss on his ear. He pretended not to be affected, and kept his eyes on the road. Somehow, that only made me more determined to tempt his attention, to prove that I knew what I was doing even though I really didn’t.

When my hand moved further toward the inside of his thigh, getting warmer, we were halfway to his apartment. He suddenly pulled off the road and into an empty parking lot. After throwing the car into park he turned toward me, grabbed my wrist, and shoved my hand into his crotch. I felt the bulge swell as he pulled me over, using his other hand to grab me by the hair. I liked the feeling much more than I would have thought before I ever felt it.

“It’s really uncomfortable to drive with a chubby, so you need to stop being a fucking tease and decide whether you want to risk jerking me off in a parking lot or hold your goddamned horses until we’re on a soft surface so I can spend at least one good load on your ass.”   

He started to hum the Final Jeopardy tune as I lost my capacity to think. Once _able_ to think about it, I removed my hand and acquiesced until he let me sit back.

“You’ll be hard anyway, just thinking about it,” I decided to throw in.

Levi chuckled deep in his throat and accelerated out of the lot. “Don’t test me, kid; you’re dangerously close to losing it in the back seat of a Camaro.”

It didn’t sound entirely unpleasant.

I followed him upstairs and he walked in without holding the door for me. Levi had never been particularly courteous in that way, but it was one of those things I liked about him. Besides, he was wearing his leather pants and heeled boots that night, and the view of him walking ahead of me was something I didn’t necessarily want to lose. Once inside of his apartment, surrounded by the smell of it that I recognized whether or not he’d been there long enough for it to really be _his_ , I closed the door gently, locked it, and started to open my mouth.

He interrupted me before I could even speak. “Eren.”

Hearing him say my name gave me an indescribable rush. No one else had ever said my name like that. Levi turned halfway toward me and shrugged out of his coat, not necessarily striking poses as he did, although I may have been projecting them onto each movement.

“Yeah?”

What was I expecting? I had no idea. He stepped over and hung the coat inside of the closet right next to me, shooting me a cursory glance in the pause. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“Uh—“

“That’s not me being _curt_. If you need to, please go now. You’ve never done this before, so let me just ask it this one time.”

Though embarrassed, I thanked him inwardly for the tip, and barely suppressed a disappointed sigh as I shuffled off. Through the door of the bathroom I heard music start to play, and took advantage of the moments I had to get my thoughts level.

I stole a little of his mouthwash while I was at the sink, as well, just to make the best impression.

Eager to move past any awkwardness, I started talking before I’d even stepped out of the bathroom completely. “So can I _finally_ get that kiss?”

I didn’t even notice the direction Levi came from, but he was on me immediately, flattening me against the door and making it slam shut in the process. My eyes flew open and I sucked in a breath through my nose once I was well aware of his mouth on mine. Just like I had on the hood of his car I just went with it, mirroring his energy and power.

My hand found his but he pulled it away after just a moment, instead groping up my chest to push the flannel shirt off my shoulders. I didn’t say a word. I just waited until the shirt hit the floor and latched one hand on the back of his head. I rubbed my fingers against the grain of his shorter hair and hoped it would have the same effect on Levi that it had on me. The move worked; he groaned loudly and pulled back to nip at my bottom lip, holding my eyes.

I opened my mouth and moved quickly to envelop his, but he pulled back just enough in a silent, overt tease. I tried it again, and again he dodged me. We kept playing like that. Every time, my heart swelled with even more excitement and my blood surged. Finally I just tightened my hand on his head and pulled him closer, feeling only slight resistance before our lips crushed together again and we gasped relief into each other’s mouths.      

I’d barely given a thought to Levi’s hands under my shirt, too concerned with other things, but then his fingers brushed my nipples and I moaned into him. I felt his lips smirk up before he smacked me with a quick kiss and breathed, “Oh, that’s good. That’s really good.”

Locked on his targets, Levi clamped thumb and forefinger on both sides of my chest and pinched. My back left the door and I arched toward him, twisting my face, confused by the conflicting sensations. It hurt, but it was a good sort of hurt that complemented my rising tension. I still felt the heat of his body, the closeness of his breath on my neck, and just a gust of a laugh as he reacted to my grimace. While he rubbed my nipples between his fingers, I didn’t know what else to do. I was definitely sure I wanted him to have the best access to my body, so I reached down to pull off my shirt.

Levi kissed me just as soon as I had it over my head, and for the first time since I’d emerged from his bathroom he addressed me directly. “Who said you could use my mouthwash?”

I just looked at him and rolled my eyes.

He pulled me away from the door and kept kissing me roughly as I was led in the direction of his bedroom. “Come on, let’s get comfortable,” he said.

“No way I can be comfortable right now, I feel like I’m going in every direction at once.”

“Oh yeah?” Levi challenged me with his tone, and we shared a small, slightly clumsy dance as he turned me around. I almost knew what was coming, but I was still just shocked enough to gasp when he pushed me back onto his bed. It was a tall bed, a good bed, but it made for an awkward landing angle. I propped myself up on my elbows and moved up onto it. Levi was looking at me as I did, practically devouring me with his eyes. I could only imagine the sort of things he was getting up to in his own mind, and I wanted to know every detail.

“Comfortable, isn’t it?” He finally asked, and I had to laugh.

His bed smelled good, like fresh laundry, and the sheets were softer than I’d expected. Levi was serious about the most surprising things. “I guess so,” I said, agreeing with a subtle nod to the side.

He took the opportunity to slip off his shirt before his hands went for his studded belt. I couldn’t form words; he kept his eyes on me and slid the buckle open, leather sliding against leather in the otherwise quiet room. “Come on, talk to me,” he urged, dropping the belt on the floor. The heavy buckle made it clunk where it landed.     

“Um…” What was I supposed to say? I just wanted to look at his body, to take it all in, to really use the moments to consider what was going on, fearing I wouldn’t remember it. “I want you.”

“That’s a good start,” he said. “Elaborate.”

I wasn’t expecting the third degree. “Oh, god, I don’t know. What do you want me to say?” He was about to push his pants down, and then stopped. My brain froze. _No, don’t you dare stop there._

“What do you want me to _do_?” He prompted me.

“Take your pants off,” I pushed the words out with a deep breath.

He pushed the waistband just slightly past the natural curve of his waist, taking his underwear along, lowering the fabric until I saw the very edge of his pubic hair come into view. “Why?”

I wet my lips; I had to. My eyes wandered up to his face again, somehow. He acknowledged the glance with a quick nod. “No, it’s okay, keep looking. You know where you want your eyes to be, don’t think you have to be all _polite_.”

Thank God. My line of sight dove right back to his crotch, where he was still pulling his pants down at an excruciatingly slow pace. His hips swiveled very subtly with the movement and I whimpered. “Show me.”

“Show you what?”

“Show me your cock.”

He pulled them lower, using the tightness of the band that read Calvin Klein to hold everything taut, showing me half of the swollen shaft held close to his body. “God,” I gasped.

Levi tsked at me lightly, and when I looked at him I saw him shake his head. “Look at you; a month ago you still thought you were straight. You want this, don’t you?”

I filled up my chest with a long, mighty breath and closed my eyes momentarily. “God, yes, I do.”

“You want me to fuck you.”

It was taking everything in my power not to tear my jeans off, or at the very least reach down to adjust myself where my dick had gotten painfully hard inside them. “Yeah.”

He met my eyes, squinted in something of a silent cue, and looked down at himself as he rolled his hips up and pushed his pants completely down.

Thinking was not my first priority as Levi stepped out of his clothes and moved up onto the bed to crawl over me. Breathing was something that seemed suddenly difficult; how was I supposed to think, talk, combine the two and tell him all of the amateur, instinctive filthy impulses running through my head?

He paused expectantly on his hands and knees, looking down at me with hair hanging loose on the sides of his face. I felt the need to say something, no matter how stupid it sounded. “I..” I tested whether my voice worked, at first. “I feel like I could _eat_ you. I know that doesn’t sound sexy, but—“

“No, no, that sounds sexy. That sounds sexy as fuck.” He shifted his weight to one arm and dropped the other hand to my stomach. I nearly jumped at the tickle of his fingers over my navel. “Do whatever you want, get your teeth in me, fucking eat me alive if you want.”

“I really want to get out of my pants,” I said, just as Levi tugged at the waistband.

“Yeah, I was thinking these look a little tight.” He leaned down over me, pressing half of his weight into my body, maneuvering the button of my jeans apart with his fingers. At first he tried to nudge my chin aside, to kiss my neck, but he’d told me to do whatever I wanted.

I wanted to taste his mouth again, so I took his hair in my hand and pulled him over to do that. Though not quite confident enough to believe it completely, I could swear I heard a gasp of pleasant surprise from Levi as we kissed.

Even as his hand stole into my jeans smoothly, I just pulled him closer, held him tighter to my mouth, put all of it into that kiss. I’d known Levi was an aggressive kisser from our one experience, but suddenly everything about him matched. The possessive way he squeezed at my cock was enough to take my breath away, rendering me light-headed as he jerked my pants off, first with his hand and then by putting a foot between my legs to finish the job. It was sort of awkward, but also showed me a glimpse of him I hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t as concerned with the showmanship suddenly, I realized. Maybe this was him; the real him?

I meant to direct him toward my crotch when I pushed his head down, but Levi stopped far short of that, and by the time he clamped his teeth down on one of my nipples I didn’t have time to control my reaction.

It wasn’t quite a _word,_ that I cried out, but it was somewhere between “yes” and a more standard “oh, god”; I mangled it regardless. His tongue laved me hard where he’d bitten me, and I felt him breathe hot against the same spot.

“Do you like that?” He asked.

I nodded, then realized that he couldn’t see me nodding. Maybe he could feel the gesture. Whatever the case, my dick was rubbing against his stomach and his was rubbing against my thigh, and my nipple was harder than I’d ever even _known_ my nipples could get – hell, I didn’t even know my nipples could do anything but simply _be there_ – so I just croaked out, “Yeah,” and tightened my fingers in his hair.  

“I like a man with a high pain tolerance,” he said cryptically, and I wanted to make some snippy remark about how he’d pushed his foot into my crotch last time we’d gotten radical so yeah, I had a feeling. Words, however; I was still having trouble with how those worked. I just groaned for him again as his mouth descended on the other side of my chest.

“Oh, god,” I was finally able to articulate, and my nipple felt like a fucking pencil eraser under his tongue. I’m sure the way he rolled his body against my cock helped, but somehow the way the two sensations combined made every synapse in my brain fire on _hell yes_. “Don’t… go too crazy…”

He came up for air long enough that I knew he was looking at me. I opened my eyes. He looked slightly disappointed. “Did you suddenly go all delicate on me?”

I breathed out hard through my nose, feeling a bit like a caged animal. We’d stopped moving completely for the moment. “No. I just don’t want to… you know… I don’t know how much you mean by that. High pain tolerance.”

Levi moved up to my face and kissed me quickly. Returning to our former momentum, he kept thumbing one tender nipple as he whispered in my ear. “I mean I’d like to see how far you can go. I’ll stop if you tell me. But I don’t think you will. When we decide to go that far.”

His voice left me drunk for a moment; so did what sounded like a guarantee of future chances. Still in a blind haze, I found my lips moving, forcing out the foremost thought on my mind: “Can I tell you something I want?”

“Absolutely you fucking can.” Levi grabbed my ear between his teeth and pulled at it. I felt his nails scraping down my chest. I wondered how hard he fucked. I wondered what it felt like, and just wondering made me lift my hips to push myself harder against his body. He actually returned the friction, sighing in concentration as he did.

I was determined not to feel foolish for saying it. “Can you, um… finger me, I guess?”

“What, you mean fingerbang your ass? I was sort of going to do that anyway.”

“Well, I didn’t know!”

“Don’t get mouthy.” He growled into the next kiss and repositioned his body until he was grinding his cock directly into mine. I may have choked a little on my own breath, it felt so overwhelming. He pulled off of my mouth, breathless himself. “No, I’m lying, please get mouthy like that. I’m going to tell you the truth, that’s fucking hot.”

I wasn’t quite sure enough of what I was doing to order him around, not yet, but I made the mental note nonetheless.

When I was silent for just a beat too long, Levi went on. “I get a request, then.”

“What?”

“Get on your knees.”

“Do you mean, like… on my knees, suck your cock, or—“ He started to roll his eyes and I cut myself off to exclaim in my own defense, “Because I’ll do that, too! I want—“

“No, I meant literally get on your knees on this bed and put your ass in the air for me. That’s what I mean.” It was something about the sarcastic way he said it that made me chuckle in spite of myself. A sudden rush of not believing it was actually happening ran through me; the effect was nothing short of an out-of-body experience, but it was over quickly enough.

By that point I had assumed the position, as it were. Levi had moved off the bed momentarily, noting that my lapse of common sense had been fortunately timed. I thought about arching my back in a more seductive way, but just felt silly about it. Left alone and exposed like that, however briefly, I felt silly no matter what. I looked around for Levi and sat up on my knees just a bit to find him.

He held up an empty box in one hand, just standing there naked and erect like it was no big deal. “Hm. You’re lucky, kid. This is my last condom.”

I gulped slightly and glanced away, not particularly wanting to think about how he’d exhausted an entire box of condoms before I made it to his bed.

“Now, then!” His borderline-cheery voice was a little jarring. I looked back in time to see him toss a bottle of lube into the air and catch it in the same hand. “Let’s go to work.”

“Somehow I imagined this more romantically,” I admitted, turning away from him again to face his (admittedly impressive) collection of pillows at the head of the bed.

“Oh, yeah? And I wound up not being the sentimental, frilly sort? What a _shock_.” His voice got closer as he climbed back onto the bed behind me. Then he paused. “Jesus _wept,_ though, I have to admit you look sexy as fuck right now.”

I just cleared my throat and almost wavered on a chuckling, “Thanks.”

“You keep on looking like you do and I’ll make sure you can’t make it down the stairs tomorrow morning,” he said, breath falling on the small of my back as he leaned over me. “And believe me, you’re staying until morning.” I was about to answer, to say whatever happened to spew out of my mouth, but Levi’s hand was suddenly snaking up between my legs, fingers splaying over my balls and then up the underside of my cock while he laid a long, claiming lick up my spine. At that point my back arched in spite of my self-consciousness. Levi stole my doubt and replaced it in seconds with the same ferocity that had been behind our last few kisses. Moaning, I spread my knees a little wider on the bed and his hand wrapped around my cock to stroke me a few times. He whispered in my ear: “How’s that for romantic?”

The lube on his fingers felt positively unreal when he swiped them against me. “Oh, wow,” I gasped before I could stop myself.

“ _Wow?_ ” He sounded amused, in a sexy sort of way. “Feels good, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s… different.”

“What have you been using, then?”

“Um, Vaseline.”

I expected exactly what I got in return. “I’m sorry.”  

He had one finger inside me before he spoke again, while I was still breathing hard into the feeling, open-mouthed while he twisted deeper into my body. “Okay,” he deadpanned, “I’m going to need you to relax a little if I want to even think of getting anything bigger in you. Not that the thought isn’t… appealing, but…”

“How am I supposed to relax?” I panted back at him.

“Fair point.” With that he pulled out, and I was scared that I’d lost the game until he slid back inside, slowly but firmly, with two fingers. Not knowing what else to do, I just gritted my teeth and, at last finding my bearings, pushed against him.

“Hm,” was his scant but intriguing reply.

“What was that for?”

“You rutting back on my fingers like a little whore.”

He was deeper than I’d ever been able to go on my own, certainly, and every subtle jab or turn of movement made me whine in response as I got used to the feeling. I’d forgotten, at least in the heat of that particular moment, how long his fingers were.

“So,” he spoke up after what felt like minutes but may have only been seconds, the way my brain was operating. “Still with me?”

I may have seemed dazed, at the very least, and probably had for some time. I just nodded, hoping he took my whimper as an affirmative one.

“Good, because if you don’t particularly mind, I’m going to lose my goddamned mind if I don’t—“

I suddenly interrupted him with a yelping moan, reacting to a sensation that passed just as easily and quickly as it had registered. I pushed back hard into his touch with another feinting cry, hoping to get back to that rush the way I sometimes tried to go back to sleep to reenter a dream. “Oh,” Levi murmured, suddenly beckoning inside me with questing intensity. “Shit, did you just come a little? I can be persuaded to stay where I am, then.”

“No,” I said, knowing full well what I wanted. The brush to my prostate had hit like a hammer, and made me realize what a live wire I was. I probably had just come a little. My dick was practically throbbing to be touched. “No, go ahead.”

“Are you sure?”

In that instant he managed to hit me in the right spot once again, and it took some effort not to press myself down to hump the mattress. I was woefully out of shape, too – holding myself up was becoming a little difficult, considering. “Yeah, you can fuck me now, I’m—“

Levi didn’t wait for me to finish my answer. He had me on my back before I knew he’d even left me empty, and I slid my legs together just to revel in the strange sensation of slickness inside my body.

He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, looking beautifully breathless, and nodded down at me with an explanation. “I’ve changed my mind, I’ve gotta look at your face if I fuck you.”

I spread my legs around him and smiled gently, feeling quite pleased with myself. This time he didn’t tell me not to make it so obvious. I saw Levi’s chest rise with a deep breath before he leaned over me. Something about the mood was suddenly off, and my mind raced to identify it just in case I’d made the wrong move.

Then, right before I probably would have said something stupid, he spoke. “It’s been a long time since I did this… like this… by the way.”

“How long?” I answered, unable to believe that he was nervous for any reason. I started to rub his arm unconsciously, letting my fingers trace long, graceful muscles where they found them.

He shrugged in his position and half-sneered. “Since I was your age, really. Maybe a little later. Maybe I was eighteen, I don’t remember that well. But I’ve been a career bottom for a long time.”

“That is a long time,” I breathed in deeply myself, but our voices stayed fairly even. Low, secretive. I might have dared to call it an intimate moment.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he hastened to add. “I’m completely capable of railing your ass into next week. I don’t make claims I can’t back up, but… it’s just that this isn’t what I’ve been used to, for a long time.”

“I get it,” I answered, and even though I wasn’t sure if the gesture would be a welcome one, I squeezed his lower arm in what I hoped would be a reassuring gesture. “Look at it from my perspective. I have nothing to compare it to.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, if that’s what you were just trying to do.”

“Shut up, you know what I meant.”

He tilted his head and waited, taking the opportunity to lower and bump his hips forward just slightly, letting his cock nudge my ass. I breathed hard but maintained myself, and our eye contact.   

“What could _you_ have to feel nervous about?” I finally said softly. It was a good outburst, for a change. “Look at you.”

“I’m not nervous,” he tried to defend himself, tossing his head and starting a contentious sigh that fell off halfway. Then he looked back at me, and shook his head, and pushed hard against me. It actually made me laugh. “Shut up.”

He chuckled inside of his throat while I laughed in giddy excitement beneath him, squirming just a little. At least he’d managed to make me feel comfortable in spite of what I didn’t know. I was almost convinced I was going to be a zombie, seized by disbelief, by the time it happened.

“Here I am,” he went on loosely, as if to himself. “I’m about to commit a crime.”

“Well, it sure as hell won’t be the first time.”

Levi almost gave a candid laugh; I saw him tremble into what was nearly a smile right before he leaned in and kissed me, cock sliding on my ass but still not pushing in. “You little shit,” he said breathily, tenderly between our lips. Like it was a pet name. I guess it sort of was.

“I’m probably gonna come the second it’s in,” I confessed shakily, and felt him chuckle against my skin.

“Well,” he hitched up his tone and my legs at once, reaching out with a blind grope for the lube. “That’s the great thing about being your age, you’ve got more than enough soldiers in reserve. We can keep this going until you tap out.” He paused, and I heard him flip the cap on the bottle to accentuate his point. “Trust me, I’m good for it if you are.”

He added: “Just keep in mind I have one condom, so we’ll need to get creative after this.”

I did not, in fact, come the second Levi’s cock pushed inside of me. I was too busy coming to terms with the fact that I felt like I was being cloven in half to really think of it as _erotic,_ but that changed soon enough. He wasted no time in throwing himself into the task at hand, closing his eyes to concentrate while I watched his face and tried to catch my breath on every thrust.

When he had his pace set and opened his eyes, told me in a gruff rumble to touch myself; that’s when I knew I was going to explode. A few little quakes of pleasure shot through me when I started to fist my cock, and it only took me focusing for an instant to feel my whole body give in to the build-up. It was his _voice_ , it was always his voice, just the way he said things and made everything I wanted curl up out from my depths of doubt and toward him.   

My abdomen clenched and I felt the workout catch up to me, folded just enough between the bed and Levi’s hips to put a strain on my body. I tightened my legs around him, ankles digging hard into the small of his back when I yelped and came.

He started a few words, attempting to swear at me a couple of times while he just kept thrusting sharply and shallowly. I almost wanted to give up, go limp, just wheeze into the bliss of my orgasm and feel the fullness inside my body moving with a quick, calming rhythm.

But, nothing ever being so easy, Levi spoke again. “Thought you were gonna break my dick right off, you just got so fucking tight when you came.”

Only one response seemed appropriate. Then again, one response was exactly what I was capable of: “ _God_.”

“You don’t need to call me that.”

I pulled my hand away from my cock, which remained almost unbelievably hard in the aftermath, and smeared my come on his chest. Levi just leaned closer to me, closer, until I thought I couldn’t possibly curl beneath him anymore, and kissed me.

He sucked on my tongue and grabbed it with his teeth, moved his mouth on mine in slow, claiming pushes that I matched and did one better. The Cure, in the background, on the stereo. We didn’t break the kiss until he pulled away with a grunt and started to move more intently.

I was studying his face so carefully, because he looked so vulnerable and focused, that I didn’t notice I was crying out softly on every thrust. Only when Levi told me say something, anything, did I suddenly realize I had to interrupt my unconscious little noises to do so.

“Feels good,” I gasped. That’s all I was thinking. Maybe he wanted me to be wilder, more in control, more demanding. The last thing I wanted to do was disappoint him, but I couldn’t be anything but what I was.     

Imagine my surprise when his head fell at my words and he let out a heavy, blunt groan. He pushed hard into me and I grabbed the sheets, grimacing while he went with the forward thrust of his body in one long, slow roll. He was holding my legs and I was taking all of his weight; he was seemingly silent until I caught the sound of a faint whine from his throat. Maybe that’s what took my breath away, or maybe it was the fact that I could hardly breathe anyway. Not until Levi let up and backed off, sitting on his knees to give me just a few more erratic thrusts. I swallowed hard and wet my lips, looked around even though I wasn’t really taking anything in, and let go of the sheets.

After he pulled out of me, Levi let go of my legs and I let them fall heavily, limply. The feeling was disorienting, to say the least, so I just lay there blinking and breathing hard to get my head on right. He swayed just slightly on his knees as he got used to the new center of gravity, knitting his brows for a moment like he wasn’t sure where he was.

His shoulders rolled and he moaned contentedly before lifting a hand. Eyes swept down and he touched his fingers to the spot where the come on my palm had dried on his chest.

“Gross,” he said with a heavy sigh, before he fell over me for another kiss.     


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just didn't want this chapter to end, but pacing requires me to hold back that urge to describe every ensuing detail. 
> 
> Here you go, guys. A couple of questions answered, and then... oh no? OH NO READ ON AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS GO GO READ ON. 
> 
> P.S. This is the most I will ever feel the need to write about pee, thank you very much.

 

“Stop, no. Don’t! Stop!” I was laughing, which I couldn’t really help because everything was suddenly funny and every inch of me was suddenly ticklish. I wondered what time it was. The last I’d looked at the clock, it was 4:00a.m. The sun wasn’t up yet, at the very least.

“No?” Levi mewled next to my ear, suppressing his own laughter even though his tone gave him away. He managed to sound pitiful, mournful of my protests. “Don’t have it in you, or…?”

“I’m just really _tired,_ ” I groused, and we wrestled horizontally even though something so sexually charged probably didn’t qualify as wrestling. I managed to get his hand off my balls, at least, but even that brief exchange left me panting a little.

He kissed me before he fell off to the side, collapsed onto his back and blew a raspberry. “Don’t give me _tired_ after I just did that.” He was talking about the blowjob, or maybe he was talking about fingering me _while_ he gave me a blowjob, which had also been appreciated.

I started laughing; I couldn’t help it, really. “It made me tired!”

Though I didn’t look over at him, I heard Levi let out a grumble that twisted into something stranger and more comical somewhere in his throat. “I thought this would be a lot crazier than it ended up being.”

I stopped laughing at that, and scoffed as I sat up. “Sorry to _disappoint_!”

Levi glanced at my naked lap first, and then up at my face. He was smirking, but his eyes were wide in a way that made him seem very nearly on the edge of apologetic. It was enough to calm me down. “You didn’t.”

“Well… good!” I lay back down and groped to find the blanket we’d thrown on the floor a couple of hours ago along with most of the pillows. I’d been in a perpetual state of almost, pre-, or post-orgasm since we’d come into the room, it felt like. I hoped I’d kept Levi in the same condition, considering how hard I’d worked and how much my jaw hurt, but then I thought about the years of experience he had, how much more stamina as a result. I was just green. I’d get better, and then if Levi wanted crazy I’d do everything in my power to give it. For now, I was just _tired,_ and tapped out, and aching in places I didn’t know I could ache. Aside, even, from what I’d expected. My abs, my thighs. My arms were still wobbly with tightness.

Levi reached over to grab a handful of my ass while I was leaned over the edge of the bed grabbing for the blanket. I cried out and twisted to swat him away. “No!” Like I was dealing with a pet. I hadn’t for one moment assumed the roles would be that way.

“Oh, come on! I can’t help it!” Turned toward me, then, he was muffling his face with the pillow. He hadn’t pulled his hand away, really; it had just gone limp next to me, and I rolled over onto it, blanket in tow. “You get mean when you’re tired, I see.”

“I’m not being  mean, I’m just—“

“Yeah, tired. I know.” He pulled his arm out fro, under me and splayed out on his stomach. His head rested on his folded arms, and I didn’t really want to offer him the blanket because it was, despite my exhaustion, a very nice view. We studied each other in silence for a few moments. Levi lifted his hands. “Come on, don’t be a—“ He traced a shape in the air.

I wrinkled my forehead. “Don’t be a box?”

He sighed and threw his arms out, landing face-down in the pillow again. “No,” he lifted his head just enough to say. “Don’t be a _square_. It’s from Pulp Fiction. You haven’t seen Pulp Fiction yet?”

“I’m not old enough to see Pulp Fiction!”

He just hissed, like he didn’t want to think about it. Everything went right back to being funny, and I laughed.

“Fine, then. Goodnight!” He grabbed the blanket and turned over gruffly. I only gave a short “aww” of disappointment that he’d covered himself up.

Then, Levi wiggled backwards to push himself into me. I tensed. He noticed. “It’s your first time actually sleeping with someone, obviously. Trust me, it’s pretty much always awkward, to varying degrees. You just learn to deal with the awkwardness.”

“Where do I put my hands?” I asked softly.

Levi reached back to grab my exposed arm, and wrapped it around his body like a coat. I wondered if he could feel my heartbeat as it got faster the closer we slid together.

“What about my other arm?”

“Yeah, that’s the awkward part. Little spoon always wins.”

“What?”

He sighed. “Spooning, what we’re doing right now is called spooning, and it’s lame and cuddly but it’s also fucking comfortable so… big spoon, little spoon. Do you get the imagery? ‘Haha,’ I know. You know what, explaining everything to you gets old.”

“Would you rather I learn from someone else? God, you’re mean when you’re tired, too.” He didn’t really mind explaining things to me, and I knew it.

“I’m not tired, I’m just always mean.”

I couldn’t argue against that. I decided to uncurl my other arm, letting it lay flat under the pillow and hang halfway over the head of the bed. At least Levi’s headboard was slatted. My arm fit nicely through the space, and only my fingers touched the wall.

Saying goodnight wasn’t an option until I reconciled the fact that his ass was fitted directly against my crotch, right in the curve of my hips. Pretending, probably, to be squirming into a more comfortable position, he rubbed back against me.

I tried. I really, really tried, because I really, really was tired. I thought about Armin and Armin’s grandfather and Mikasa when she had on her bright orange Garden Botanica mud mask at night. I thought about spiders. I thought about cleaning burned lasagna out of a metal baking pan. Anything unsexy. But nothing worked.

After a minute or two, Levi broke the silence, smiling into a mumble. “You liar.”

“I can’t help that!” I gritted my teeth and leaned my forehead into his hair. “I’m sorry!”

“Oh, no, trust me. You don’t need to apologize.”

He kept moving, rolling his ass into my cock as it got undeniably harder. It was almost painful, and it took my breath away, so I just panted and let the breath fall on the back of his neck. “That’s sexy, feeling you breathe on me like that.” He kept his voice in that teasing mumble.

I put my free hand on his hip. Levi moaned in appreciation and bumped harder against me until I was forced to counter him with pushes of my own just to stay where I was. The friction felt great, actually; even though I was almost sure I wasn’t going to come again so easily.

To pull attention away and beg a little bit of mercy, I slid my hand down and pulled at Levi’s cock instead. Over his shoulder, as I drew my other arm in for a bit of leverage, I glimpsed the clock. It was just after 6:00a.m. and the sky was lightening outside of the window. My arm burned with protest at the continued workout and I let my head collapse into the crook of Levi’s shoulder, attaching my lips to the skin.

“Come on, get your adrenaline out now.” His voice went rough and demanding suddenly. “We can sleep after this, but not until you get me off one more time. Your dick’s ready and you can’t even keep up? Come on, I fucking want you to make me come.”

I knew it was a tactic, but it worked. I opened my mouth on his shoulder where it had landed, and bared my teeth on the skin, squeezing his cock as I did. I felt Levi arch into me, throwing his body into a severe curve as he growled at the attention. “Yeah, that’s right, you want me just like this, don’t you?”

I couldn’t deny that the idea was suddenly at the top of my wish-list. As my cock kept sliding in the dry heat between Levi’s asscheeks, the whole situation taunted me with the fact that I couldn’t have him like that, not right now, for so many reasons. Focused and speechless, I just tugged harder at him and breathed out with a grunt.

“When I said I’ll bet you can fuck all night,” he started like a confession, and I wasn’t sure if he was still just riling me or actually opening up. “I meant in a lot of ways. Fuck, if we had what we need I’d tell you to put it in me right now. Fuck… fuck… I want that cock.” He was losing his breath as well. “Shit, I feel light-headed, you mean business.”

He didn’t tell me to calm down, though, so I didn’t. I was grinding on him by then, holding his ass firmly on my dick with the hand I’d snaked beneath him. He was gyrating in tight, obscene little circles and my own head spun on how quickly he could go from stern and sarcastic to a sexual force of nature. My hand was moving the way I usually reserved for those frantic moments when I heard Mikasa getting home or needed to just get it out of the way so I could finish my shower and get to school. I felt like I didn’t have any control over my own muscles. The blanket trapped our body heat in a pocket of warmth that moved with whooshing rhythm as I worked beneath it. I bit into his shoulder again, closer to the neck, and I sucked on the spot. Levi gasped and took in a twitching, hissing breath, obviously pleased and obviously surprised by my intensity.

I had to admit, though, I was pretty surprised as well.

“Are you _marking_ me, kid? You want everyone to know I’m yours?”

The hand I had on his hip drew up to the fingertips and I pressed my nails into the skin. “Yeah.”

He gulped; I heard it right next to my ear.  

“Fuckin’…” He started, and then bucked hard against my hand, losing his rhythm. He cried out louder than I’d heard yet, and I raked my fingernails where they were. He swallowed that cry with a sharp whine, then, and came.

I just held on to Levi as he settled, muttering things about me that were both sweet and unmentionable. It was like a lewd lullaby that helped me ease out of my own excited state. I don’t really remember falling asleep. Levi slipped away to use the bathroom. In the brief respite I must have taken the opportunity to drift off compeltely, and by the time I opened my eyes again it was mid-afternoon and Levi was breathing slowly and evenly with his back turned to me.

Fascinated by the sight of his tattoo right in front of my eyes, I lifted my fingers sleepily to trace the wings, hovering just above the warmth of his skin. I wanted to feel out the bumps of his spine that I could see outlined from the curve he’d tucked himself into, but I didn’t want to wake him.

Panic nearly took over, because for a moment or two my brain wanted to refute everything and pretend, as it tended to, that I wasn’t good enough for a good thing. Even though I didn’t give in to that feeling, I still couldn’t get back to sleep. I grunted as softly as possible and shifted up to curve back around him. The spot I’d left on Levi’s neck was bright red. I smiled at it as I blinked into full consciousness, and wondered how long he was going to sleep. Though I didn’t want to wake him, I also didn’t want to leave him alone to wake up without me. Either way, I had to piss so bad that I finally understood the phrase “my back teeth are floating.”

I walked to the bathroom and didn’t even think twice about simply taking myself in hand and going for it. I somehow managed to forget that I’d fallen asleep after coming twice (or maybe once more? My memory was slightly blurry) in succession. My piss forked off with the power of a full bladder behind it, arcing onto Levi’s fabric shower curtain. I just stared at first, actually _feeling_ myself go pale with mortification. Trying to right the trajectory didn’t work, either. And that’s how I wound up pissing all over Levi’s bathroom right after we spent our first night together. It wasn’t even worth it to think about my mistake, only what I was going to do to fix it.

I crept back into the bedroom, found my clothes, and hurried across the hallway just as quickly. Cleaning up after myself (not to mention cleaning _myself_ ) was handled quickly enough, but once I got out of his shower I realized I had little choice other than to take the curtain clean off and stick it in the washing machine. I left the clear liner up and huffed out of the room with the thing wadded under one arm.

Levi was standing in the doorway of his bedroom, eyes lidded with drowsiness, waiting for me to leave.

“I…” I started, and couldn’t figure out how to explain myself, but he just stood there blinking sleepily and scratching his bare stomach. He paid little mind and stepped up to push me out of the way gently before stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind. 

By the time he emerged in a Nine Inch Nails t-shirt and little else, I was staring at the washing machine like I expected the load to be finished within moments.

“Okay,” he started. “Good morning, first of all. Now what the hell are you doing with my shower curtain?”

I glanced over in time to see him draw onto his toes to pull a bowl down from the top shelf of his cabinet. In the move his shirt rode up his back, and I noticed he was wearing black satin panties. I pushed back a momentary wave of confusion to chew on my thumbnail as I answered, “I pissed on it so I’m washing it.”

He stopped dead in the center of the kitchen and stared at me, empty bowl still in his hand.

“What.”

Maybe I should have explained myself first. I waved my hand in the air and sighed. “I didn’t clean up last night and I just…”

“Round jammed in your barrel, had some misfire action going on? I get it. Still, this is _not_ how I expected our morning after to be.” He shook his head and turned to the refrigerator. “Do you want waffles?”

“I could eat some waffles, yeah.”

After a few moments he spoke up, hidden by the fridge door with only his little satin-clad ass poking out. “Scratch that, I don’t have milk. Well, I have milk but it’s… questionable. Do you want eggs?”

“I could eat anything, really.”

Levi straightened up and leaned back slowly from the door to look at me when I said that. He smirked.  

“Oh, you _know_ what I meant!”

“The invitation is still open.”

Easy silence took over the slow process of waking up. After a few minutes I walked into the kitchen and leaned on the counter to watch him frying up our breakfast. “Do you wear panties a lot?”

He shrugged, focused on flipping the eggs. I didn’t like my eggs over easy, but I wasn’t about to tell him. Maybe I’d learn to like them that way. “When I feel like it. At home, more than out. They’re comfortable. Looking at my ass, then?”

“Um, yes. Of course. It’s just…” I took a deep breath and realized that I was at a disadvantage no matter what. “Are those the same ones you wore the other night? When I came over?”

“The same. Why’s that important?”

“I just thought you gave those to me, is all.” I mumbled, a little ashamed as I admitted it.

Levi sat the spatula down and rocked back, holding the oven door handle as leverage. He looked up at the ceiling while the eggs sizzled. “You didn’t empty out the pockets of those jeans, did you?”

“I was too sad. I thought we’d broken up or something.”

He made no remark on that, just shook his head in amusement and added, “You thought I gave you a pair of unwashed panties, though. Now who’sthe kinky one?”

“The fact that I thought so says a lot about you, actually.”

The shrug he gave suggested that he didn’t quite disagree with the assessment. “Nah, that’s not my style, unless you want me to.” Levi returned to the eggs. “I gave you a fucking _garter belt_. Now it sounds cheesy. Fuck you for making me say it. Don’t just stand there looking cute, the bread’s right there, put some toast in, make yourself useful.”

I did as I was told, smiling the whole time. “A garter belt, you mean like the ones girls wear to prom? Like, the sort guys hang up on their rearview mirror to show off the fact that they have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah. One of those. It’s one of Tirne’s, I sewed it myself. It’s got, like… little wings on it and everything. Go nuts, show off.”

A surge of pride rushed through my body, making me feel a little more awake and a lot more excited to leave Levi’s house for my own. As I waited for the bread to toast I let my mind wander, and started thinking out loud before I realized it. “Well, now I _definitely_ have something to show Jean.”

“What? Jean, that friend of yours? Why would he care?”

“Just…” In the middle of the sentence I remembered that Levi didn’t know. I remembered that it was something I’d been warned against, but there I was still not learning from conversations and past mistakes. “You know. To prove I have a boyfriend, is all. Someone who likes me.”

“Yeah, I guess you do.” He slid over a plate with two eggs on it, but by the time the toast popped up I wasn’t even paying attention. I should have been overjoyed to hear him say that, but I felt gut-punched with worry instead.

“Ground control to Major Eren, can you please get your toast so we can sit down and eat?” He moved past me and brushed my shoulders with his fingertips.

I ate in silence, and only nodded when Levi asked if I’d like some coffee as well. “I make a pot ready to brew when I go to sleep, usually, so I don’t have to think too much in the morning, but I didn’t get the chance last night. Give me a minute.” He left half of his eggs and toast behind, and while he was in the kitchen I turned over several warring thoughts, all of them unpleasant to varying degrees. Wringing hands between my knees, I knew my appetite was gone no matter how furiously my stomach was churning on its own juices.

“I can’t help but notice you got really quiet all of a sudden.” Levi set the coffee to brew and re-entered the small alcove called the dining room. He sat down next to me but didn’t go right back to eating his breakfast. Was he worried as well? Had he been waiting for the other shoe to drop all along?

_Why did I make that stupid bet?_

“Anything you want to say?”

“Yeah.” I took a long, hard breath until my chest ached with a pang of anxiety, and shook my head. “Look, you’re gonna be mad at me. You might be so mad at me that…” I couldn’t finish that. I couldn’t look at Levi. I just wet my lips and went on. “I may have done something really stupid but I promise it wasn’t about you.”

“Eren, what’s wrong?” Levi’s voice had dropped to that steely flatness I could only assume was his emotionless core, the center of strength where he retreated way too often. I desperately didn’t want him to stay there on account of me.

“I made a bet with Jean. That I could get laid, lose my virginity before the end of the semester. If I won, he’d make the down payment on my car.” 

The silence made me want to vomit. I sat my fork down and the clatter was the only sound in the room.

Levi finally spoke. “What if you lost?”

Would I gain more sympathy if I lied? No. I couldn’t. Levi hadn’t been given the courtesy of honesty for far too long. “Nothing, really. Just wounded pride.”

“So… you met me after you made that bet?”

“Yeah. Well, the day of.” I felt so ashamed. Tears were welling up in my eyes. I was scared, and sorry, and I wanted to say so much more than I could manage to put into words. “But it’s not like that! I didn’t go in thinking I was going to meet someone like you! I didn’t even go in thinking I’d like you at all, much less _do it_ with you because… you know…” It didn’t feel right to shut up, no matter what my mouth cobbled together from all the thoughts in my head. I finally looked at Levi through teary eyes, and he just watched while I ranted on. I remembered what Jean said. Suddenly he made sense. “It’s just this stupid thing, and you weren’t a part of that! And I guess I would have told you, but everything moved so fast. Like, one minute I was crying right over there and the next you were sucking my dick and the next we were fighting, and then we made up and I didn’t have time to even think about it! If I’d brought it up before it would have been all weird, because even though you offered, sex wasn’t all I wanted. I guess. I mean… yeah. Oh god. Just say something, I feel sick.”

I sniffed hard and dragged my knuckles over my nose, wiping them on my pants while I waited for Levi to speak. I looked at him but he was turning away, one hand raised to cover his mouth. Maybe he was making some sort of noise, but I was too caught up in the echoes of my heart throbbing in my own stuffed-up head.

He leaned over the table and crossed his arms, burying his face in the hollow as his shoulders began shaking. Was he actually so overcome that he was sobbing? I was alarmed, to see him racked so suddenly with emotion. It actually snapped me out of my own fit, and I reached over to touch his back.

“Levi, I—“ My voice trembled. I was going to ask if I should leave. Seeing him in pain because of me, _again¸_ wasn’t something I was ready to face.

As soon as I touched him, Levi lifted his head. Or, rather, he threw it back, and howled with a laugh that turned into a wheeze. He went on cackling and I recoiled, agape and actually a little _terrified_ by the unexpected sight. When he composed himself enough to speak, it was only barely.

“You… are so cute!” He managed between bouts of laughter. “Oh my god. Marry me. Oh god. Eren. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m laughing because you’re crying, but—“ He stopped to suck in a breath, and grabbed his stomach. By that point he was speaking more easily, at least. “Oh my god, you’re so worried! Fucking _stop_ ; that is the cutest story I’ve ever heard, and you’re so _serious_. What is this, a fucking John Hughes movie? You actually made a bet about that? Wow!”

He paused long enough to give me a window of opportunity to ask, “You aren’t mad?”

“Why would I be mad at you for that? We’re still gonna bone and some dupe’s buying you a car!” He clapped his hands, applauding the entire situation, and then stopped suddenly. His tone went drastic. “We’re still gonna bone, right?”

I just nodded, quite serious about that part though I was still wavering on understanding what was going on.

Levi leaned toward me. His hands came out and landed on my shoulders. “Look at me,” he said.

So I did, and his face transformed. The remnants of laughter kept tugging at his features, and in between it all his mouth broke into a grin. It wasn’t Tirne des Ailes’ grin, perfectly made up and practiced, flawless like the cover of a magazine. Levi’s face was still a little red from his excited outburst, the part of his bangs was messy, and I could see the imperfections in his complexion. The strangest part was his eyes, how they narrowed in a way that was a direct counterpoint to his usual stoic squint. He looked like he wasn’t sure which emotion he wanted to get across, but it didn’t make any difference to me. As long as he was grinning, looking at me, my whole body felt weightless. As long as he was pulling me closer, saying, “Good thing you’re so pretty when you cry,” and kissing me, I was absolutely satisfied.

It was like he told me a secret, and I knew him just well enough to realize how precious that was.

When our lips parted, I said, “He’s not _buying_ me the car, actually. And I have to wait to get a job. I’ll be making payments, he’s just—“

“I didn’t mean it literally,” Levi said, leaning into one hand on the table and shaking his head at me from the angle. “You call me out on my exaggerations so often, it shocks me that you do poorly in school. I’m not sure, but I think that’s a turn-on.”

“I’m sorry, I’m really still trying to figure out what just happened.”

Levi finally picked up his fork again. He didn’t eat his toast with his hands, I noticed. He tore off a bit at a time with the fork and matched it to a bit of egg, eating as meticulously as I might have figured. I realized it was our first meal together. There was still so much to observe, so much to learn. “You overreacted, but that’s okay because the fact that you did tells me a lot.”

He blinked at me a couple of times, slowly, but I had nothing to say. I felt my face getting hot, because I felt suddenly embarrassed, and I kept casting silent, sidelong glances as I tried to pick up by fork. I was still starving, after all.

“Did you… um…” I started, blushing by that point. “Did you say you wanted to marry me?”

He glanced away again, hiding another snorting laugh. “Yeah, it’s definitely a turn-on when you call out my exaggerations.”

I shoveled two forkfuls of eggs into my mouth and gathered my thoughts as well as I could. “You look really…” I changed my tack halfway through. “That is, I like seeing you smile.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he chuckled, and got up to pour the coffee.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have nothing to say except hooray for Levi voice, hooray for some more smut, hooray for Erwin because idegaf I love him, hooray for you guys because you're dope as shit.
> 
> If the plot seems to be thinning out here, realize that there was never much of a plot in the first place and this was all about a relationship getting off the ground, so now there are some other things to think about in Eren's life in general. Out of curiosity, what would you guys like to see? Because 1994 is just fun to write, at the end of the day, and I like to indulge as much as anyone else.
> 
> I've got a Yumikuri aside in progress, and this other one that's just... it's just pure crack so I'm holding that one close to my chest considering I may never finish it.

_Levi_

Just because I don’t tend to say much about them doesn’t mean I’m completely ignorant of the little things as they happen. Weeks passed in the blink of an eye and I definitely noticed that Eren was acting differently. It was a good thing, but I worried at first whether seeing a boy who was actually optimistic and satisfied to a certain degree would skew my attraction. He dug his heels in and seemed determined to do something; just what, I was unsure, whether it was impressing me or impressing himself. It actually wound up being perfectly tolerable to let him into my apartment carrying a backpack weighed down with books on some evenings, to watch him doing work, and then to hear him ask me questions or blurt out factoids here and there while I tended to my own boring business. When there was no business to tend to, I tended to anything that would let me stay close enough to feel his presence in the adjacent space. He started to go home earlier, started to sleep earlier, and in a probably-subconscious agreement I did as well. I found myself legitimately looking forward to wrapping up my show on Saturday so I could meet him back home, where he was spending another night. He learned where to find things in my kitchen. I indulged him in a phone call for the first time, though I ended it with “I hate the phone, can I just say goodnight and get it over with?” Sex became easier, his stamina more reliable as the particular athletic requirements of the act burned into his muscles, though opportunities to practice were surprisingly scarce.

“I got a B on my last English test,” he told me, almost sheepish about saying it, when he came to visit me at work on a Wednesday evening.

I crossed my arms and leaned forward on the counter. I must have looked confused, because he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Is that good or bad? I can’t figure out why you just said it that way.”

“It’s the best grade I’ve gotten on anything this year. In longer than that, really.” He gave me one of those shrugs that indicated how desperately he was trying to seem cool and detached.

“Hey. Hey, look at me.” He did. “That’s fucking phenomenal. I’m really proud of you. Now keep it up, you little shit.”

Holding actual, proper emotions in my mouth and letting them out was still a bit off-putting for me, but I managed it. They felt like novacaine that numbed me momentarily whenever I tasted them. Maybe Eren noticed the little things, too, though, and appreciated effort more than aptitude.

However, I was still me. “I can’t give you another free drink, though.”

There was a lot to be said for effort. In the last week of September, Eren got a part time job at a gas station two blocks down from the donut shop. It was a little family-run, full-service outfit that liked to support the kids in the neighborhood, so it seemed like it might work out well for him. He got to do his homework when it was slow at night, which it almost always was. They also gave him a striped, button-up shirt with his name embroidered on a patch, and for some reason that thing turned me on so much that I had him keep wearing it the next time I fucked him. I never knew an oil-smudged blue collar work shirt could give me a boner, but there I was.

Sometimes, as the weeks passed into a month and I wondered how hours and days disappeared so quickly, I’d see someone at the bar or at work, catch his eye or let my gaze sweep his body, and I’d be struck by the cold feeling that I wasn’t allowed to do that anymore. It was terrifying, at first, the dread that I might _slip_ , I might get irresponsible, but then I learned to replace the feeling with another one; it wasn’t that I couldn’t do that, anymore, it was that I didn’t _need_ to.

I was invited to dinner on the 7th of October, and not by my boyfriend. I received the invitation via a message on my answering machine and I played it for Eren when he visited that afternoon. Then I asked him how okay, on a scale of 1 to 10, he would be with me actually going.

“Like, around a 5,” he admitted in a mumble. I’d actually expected less.

“Yeah, that’s about where I am on it, too,” I said, looking at the answering machine with a scowl as I scratched the back of my neck. I’d cut the ugly elastic banded cuffs and bottom off an old black sweater and was wearing that around the house now that it was getting colder. Eren’s eyes were still going straight for the strip of exposed skin on my belly every time I lifted my arms. Being ogled was, at that moment, actually low on my list of priorities.

“He said he needs to tell you something. Do you think…” Eren had no idea how he was going to finish that question, so he just trailed off on it. He wanted to ask if Erwin was insinuating a reunion. A romantic reunion. I highly doubted it. That was actually the least worrisome of my scenarios. I didn’t divulge any of the more worrisome ones to Eren.

“It’s going to drive me crazy if I don’t go. I don’t know, I hope it’ll be like closure or something.”

He looked at the TV, nodding. “That makes sense. I mean, if you want to, then go.”

“I don’t _want_ to, ass. Don’t sound so melancholy about it, I’m not going to dinner so I can bend over the table, okay?” I wasn’t in the mood, and of course that had nothing to do with Eren. I grabbed my can of Sprite and walked back into the living room, where I fell into the chair next to him. He hadn’t really reacted yet. I waved my hand in front of his face. “Got it?”

“Well, you asked me how I felt about it, and I told you.”

“Isn’t your friend having a party that night, anyway? For Homecoming, or whatever?”

“Yes. How is that relevant?”

I ignored how testy he sounded. If I called him out on it, it would mean a fight. We were already very good at those. Little ones, mostly, over our own attitudes. He was learning to rise to my taunts, and I was learning to just avoid the headache when he did. “Nothing, just that you’ll be up anyway so if you want to meet me when I’m done with dinner I can cancel my show that night and I’ll let you conduct a _thorough_ examination of my person, to your satisfaction.”

He flung the book out of his lap and fell back into the chair, covering his face with his arms. He growled. I took the opportunity to roll my eyes while he was too busy being dramatic to see me. “That’s not it! I don’t actually think you’d cheat on me, just…”

I waited for him to continue, and held my palms up at him when he peeked at me. “Do you still like him?” He asked, muffled by his own bicep.

“The word _like_ is a really weird one for me, unless it comes down to certain people, and he’s definitely not one of them.”

Eren threw his arms up at that and scoffed. “You know what I mean, Do you… you know… want him?”

Not seeming even a bit hesitant was crucial. “No.”

But oh, that was a thorny subject. I lived my life in a state of constant desire for things, and it didn’t matter if those were things I had or things I wanted, things too good for me or things that would leave me in pieces. Acting on desire was a completely different thing, since Eren, but the human fact of desire? The fact that I would probably never feel less than attracted to Erwin Smith, even if the action was completely removed from that? How could I have told him the truth and ever expected him to walk through my door again?

Maybe it was a vengeful sort of desire, the sort that hoped Erwin would never be happy or he’d remember me in the most hopeless, lonely moments, that maybe he closed his eyes and thought about me every time he fucked his poor, precious wife. Whatever sort of desire it was, there was nothing else making my throat clench a little when I thought about dinner with him and worried about whatever he needed to tell me.

“Come here?” I asked and urged Eren carefully, reaching out a hand to touch his elbow. Eventually he rolled onto me and we made out until he needed to be at work. We could only steal moments, as of late, and I didn’t want all of them being clouded by tension. I walked him to the door and made my goodbye kiss purposefully more slow and intense than usual.

“You’re still pouting,” I pointed out when the kiss obviously wasn’t enough.

“I just feel weird. Because you two have a history and everything.”

“Eren,” I didn’t want to alarm him, not exactly, but I also had to put things in perspective. “If you want history, you talk about me and Hanji. If you want weird, I can mention three other people I’ve fucked that you know and have met at the Bent Ducat. Probably ones you wouldn’t expect. The fact is – are you listening to me? Because you seem like you don’t want to hear this.”

“I’m listening.”

“The fact is: I’m with you. Okay? There you go. If you were gearing up for me to give you some awkward speech about relationships and trust and how I can talk to whomever I want and at least I’m being decent enough to tell you – which is also true, but dickish – that’s not it. It’s just… I’m with you. Hm?”

He finally looked me in the eyes again, but only for a moment. 

“Okay.”

“Have a good night at work.”

He almost said “you too,” and caught himself just in time. I saw him start to laugh, at least, before he left. Even if it was an embarrassed laugh, it helped me to feel like I hadn’t fucked that up completely.

I let anxiety overtake and guide me through the afternoon leading up to dinner. The most worrisome of possibilities kept returning to me, over and over again: I’d given him something, or vice versa. _What_ , I had no idea, because I certainly didn’t seem to have anything to worry about. Still, I’d been avoiding doctors like the plague for years, and Erwin and I had only bothered with safe sex half the time, if even that. Anything was possible. And worse than the idea of an STD itself was the massively unpleasant prospect of explaining it to Eren.

I told Erwin on the phone that I had absolutely no preference on where we ate, adding that I might not have much of an appetite. He picked the Olive Garden. I asked if he was worried we might be seen. “What’s to worry about?” He replied, and so I just asked if he’d be paying (he would) and told him I’d show up at 7:00.

My eyes went directly for his left hand as he approached, and sure enough he was wearing his ring. At the last moment I decided not to let the fact go without remarking on it. “I’ve never seen you wear that before.”

“Hello,” he answered, tone already sarcastic. A flustered look on his face, he lifted his hand. It was a plain gold band. I almost sneered at it, but just nodded curtly instead. Maybe it was going to be an interesting evening, after all. He didn’t seem grim, at the very least. Just put-upon, which probably wasn’t unusual when he didn’t have the luxury of trading on his sex appeal.

And that was it, really, I noticed as we made it through the cursory stages of dinner; being seated, looking through the menu, waiting for our drinks, ordering, and making small talk between steps. He seemed like a different person, and not in the way Eren seemed different. This was a big change, a monumental shift that was less definitive the more I felt it.

We didn’t have the fallback of sex, the fallback of flirting. We couldn’t retreat into physicality the minute a conversation became too overwhelming or too alarming, and so we were treading lightly. The great thing about the weeks I spent with him, the _intoxicating_ thing about the weeks I spent with him, was the fact that at the drop of a hat I could turn all of my emotions into actions, having him fuck me until I didn’t feel the pain they inspired, for even a few minutes. So then we talked about something else. Even when we met in broad daylight, to finish the paperwork for my apartment or to discuss work, I was always saving something up for the next time we were naked and speaking in scraping nails and bruising handholds. My physicality was a defense. It kept me from letting go of too much. His was an offense. It kept him from ever having to show me how little we really had in common, and it kept me talking to that end.

It wasn’t Erwin’s _fault_ , just like my shitty moods weren’t Eren’s fault and his shitty moods weren’t my fault, and it still wasn’t anyone’s fault that I was still attracted, at the basest level. But I put on a smirk when I realized, for all of the stalling, that this wasn’t about our health, and knew I wouldn’t let go of it for the rest of the meal. When he didn’t have the sex, and I didn’t have it to look forward to, he was just another boring person.

I ordered a bottle of wine. I asked him what he was going to drink. “Water,” he informed me.

A few minutes and not one word later, I swirled the first glass in my hand and was about to sip from it when Erwin said, “Petra’s pregnant.”

I was silent for a long time. I sipped from my wine and sucked it noisily between my tongue and teeth to spread the taste over my palate. The bitter taste matched the shift of my mood. “I’m assuming that’s your wife.”

“Yeah.”

There was a group at a nearby table having a raucous time of it, apparently in the middle of a birthday celebration or somesuch. It drowned out all the little punctuation sounds I might have used, like my wine glass hitting the table or my silverware clanking together as I pulled my napkin out.

“How do you feel about that?”

“Honestly? I’m sort of terrified.”

“That stands to reason,” I answered, keeping my eyes down as I reached over to help myself to a breadstick. If I was going to get anything out of the evening after he dropped a bomb like that, I was going to get a good meal. Erwin Smith, father. It didn’t sit well with me. School administrator was one thing, but knowing what I knew about him, his secret proclivities, knowing the things he’d said to me, the things he’d done to me, feeling all of those memories come back at once… “Please tell me you’re going to stop fucking twinks in shitty bars pending fatherhood.”

He leaned forward with his palms up, looking around like I’d shouted it for the entire dining room to hear. “Relax,” I assured him, holding my hand over my mouth until I swallowed. “No one’s listening to us, no one even cares.”

“Levi.” The job had taught him the dad _tone_ already, at least, but he’d never used it on me before.

I tilted my head and gave him a pointed look. _Don’t you chastise me._

“Well, either way – and I haven’t done that in a long time, for the record –“ I managed not to laugh when he said it, though barely. “Either way, I want to be happy about this, but I wanted you to know. I didn’t feel like I could be happy until I was truthful with you.”

“So now I know.” I drank. “And you still don’t look happy. Even though you’ve unburdened yourself with no regard for how sick it might make me feel.”

“That wasn’t—“

Our server returned with our food and we tried to seem at least half as tense as we were. As soon as she was out of earshot, I took the missed opportunity to interrupt him before he felt the need to finish his blatantly obvious statement.

“You’ve done so much for me that I don’t feel like I can be honest with you about how I feel. Like I owe you my good behavior.”

“You don’t,” he said, and he was sincere. So was I, though, so that wasn’t helping. “I’d deserve it, if you want to be pissed about this. I mean, it’s not like I planned this.”

“That’s what makes it frustrating. I can just sense it, that you know how pitiful you are. I searched my brain for the perfect word, too. And that’s you to a T. Pitiful. Yet if I stood up right now and slapped you across the face I’d only—“

I cut myself off and leaned forward, hand to my mouth for a few seconds. I didn’t even finish the thought silently. I turned my eyes on his and stared until we both knew where my mind was going. Doing something like that would only arouse me. He wasn’t the one getting that sort of attention anymore. He wasn’t worth my ire just as much as he wasn’t worth my fealty. The emptiness of realizing that was jarring. I fell into a bizarre funk as I looked down to cut away at my Eggplant Parmesan in silence. Without the sex and without the surrender, we had nothing.

It made me feel good, but it still didn’t fill the hole inside my stomach that felt like I’d been played from the beginning, allowed to fall further into something than the actual depth of it had ever deserved.

Maybe it had been the same for him. I’d never know. He wasn’t my problem anymore.

“Congratulations,” I muttered, lifting my head to make sure he’d heard me. I poured another glass of wine. The word had been multifarious, and he probably knew it.

So that’s why Erwin seemed shocked at first, straightening up in his chair and then looking as lost as I would have figured. “Thank you.”

Then, he smiled. Softly, like a private thought or memory had tugged it out of him, made him remember that I wasn’t his problem anymore, either.

I lifted my glass at seeing that. “For what it’s worth, you’ll probably be a good dad.”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure about that yet.”

“You want some advice? Not that I’m a dad or anything, but I’m a son, and I’m dating a teenager so that’s a helluva ride.”

He held his hands open, smiling a little more freely, accepting the offer with humble aplomb.

The wine had loosened me up considerably, and my voice got louder as a result. I crossed my legs beneath the table and called it like I saw it. “What was so great about my dad was that he always told me stories. About himself, about what he went through growing up. I used to think they were just cool stories, but the older I get the more I realize that I can take those lessons and apply them to myself and it was great because he didn’t preach or paint those stories as wisdom; he just told me. And that could be a problem, if you just listen and give out advice but never talk about yourself. Your stories are the greatest advice. So yeah, like, listen to problems and respond accordingly, but if you have downtime just talk to the kid. Open up. That’s… that’s just really something you should do anyway, open up.”

Erwin nodded. He knew I wasn’t just giving him advice for fatherhood.

I’d taken a generous few sips in that short span of time. “Maybe you should take it easy on the wine, Levi.”

“What, I can’t drink?” I said contentiously.

“I don’t want to have to call you a cab.”

That was the most subtly brilliant reassurance I’d ever heard in my life, and it stunned me to silence for so long that I finished my second glass of wine in the interim. Of course the sonofabitch wasn’t just going to flat out say we needed to keep our mutual distance. He could feel the toxicity as well as I could. He wasn’t even going to joke about driving me home, though we both knew the thought was laughable at that point. Even the _joke of it_ was verboten, and that was the reassurance.

“I’ll call my own cab,” I declared by the time I also ordered tiramisu. He’d already volunteered to pay for dinner, so I was taking that as far as I could. “I’m finishing this bottle.”

I stopped about a half a glass shy of the bottom, when Erwin said he needed to get home before his wife. I understood, and told him so with the plain respect that I could muster in my drunken state.

Holding my wine wasn’t a problem, though it did render me incapable of driving or walking very far without running into things. I never got sick off of it, and as long as I stuck to my regimen of hydration I wouldn’t have a hangover. In fact, I liked wine when I felt like getting loud, getting giddy. It was my favorite at bars, especially in drag. The drawback was the impairment of my motor faculties, which was a drawback in heels.

I remembered I’d invited Eren over once he was done with his party. “Shit, I’m going to be a lousy fuck tonight.” I stumbled behind Erwin and put a palm on his back to hold myself, laughing when a server heard me and shot me a look. I’d said it to show off. Half of me still hoped they thought I was going home with him, just so they’d talk about it after we left. “I’m just going to lay down and tell him to go for it. Whatever.”

Erwin only replied to my mention of the topic once the cab had been called and we were waiting in the parking lot. At least he didn’t try to get parental with me again. “You’ll sober up,” he assured me. “If you don’t mind my being forward, now that we’re in a more discreet setting… Eren Jaeger, is it?”

I closed my eyes and let my head loll around on my shoulders, smiling wide at the thought, laughing deeply in my throat. “You figured it out.”

“Yeah,” Erwin continued, almost brightly. “He’s taken to getting to school early, parking next to the faculty lot, so I’ve noticed. Your garters all look the same. It’s the wings.”

“Jealous?” I asked with a flat tone, opening my eyes and staring at him unabashedly.

He held my eyes, keeping his distance both physically and emotionally until he answered, after careful consideration, “Yeah. On a certain level.”

“A certain level…” I repeated, canting my head back and forth in time with the words.

Erwin pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered me one. I accepted it, but used my own lighter. “Thanks.”

We smoked quietly, listening to the frogs making a cacophony in the nearby drainage ditch.

“Don’t give him a hard time, please,” I finally said, staring ahead. Across the street there was a new Target store that had been built over the summer. The new stores were only being built in the Trost neighborhood. Stores were only shutting down, still, in mine.

“That looks like your cab.”

I let my wrist go limp with my cigarette in it, and glared at him. “Say you won’t give him a hard time.”

“Why would he deserve that? Why would I do that?”

I thought about it. Thought about the tone of voice, realized he was still sincere. For all the things he _withheld,_ he was nothing but sincere when confronted. I shrugged, finally, and took a quick drag before saying goodnight.

“Have a good night,” he said as I walked toward the cab. “Have fun,” he added.

I pointed back at him. “I will, on a _certain level_.”

He didn’t actually say “fuck you,” but the look was all over his face as I popped off a quick salute from the wrong side and slid into the backseat.

It wasn’t closure, really. But I’d said the right things. I’d hit on some truths. Maybe some things didn’t get closure. Maybe some things weren’t really worth it, or didn’t really need it, and after a while the unimportance would become obvious. I leaned back in the seat and looked up at the headliner of the cab as I finished my cigarette on the way home. The small victories were worth celebrating, and at least I didn’t have herpes.

With no idea when Eren would actually show up, I chugged two glasses of water and parked myself in front of the TV. I must have drifted into a nap because the next thing I knew I was starting awake, peeling my cheek off the leathery surface of the beanbag chair, and slowly tuning in to the sound of knocking at my door.

I pulled open the door, rubbing my face to will an ugly pink mark off of my cheek. “Hey,” I yawned when I saw his face. “Come in, I just woke up from a nap and I have to piss like you wouldn’t believe so I’ll be right back.”

When I returned, he’d deposited his Billabong jacket on the back of one of my chairs and was washing his hands at the kitchen sink. “How was the shindig?” I asked, noting that he looked a little less than ecstatic, and more lucid than I’d expected. Then again, he was more responsible with his drinking than I was. That, in general, should have concerned me more than it did.

“I was worried when I didn’t see your car downstairs.” He turned to me, wiping his hands off on my dishtowel before folding it carefully back to hang on the oven door handle.

“I got a little red wine drunk at dinner.” I moved past him and shrugged. ”I took a cab home. How was the party?” I asked it again, just to test whether his focus could be swayed at all.

He put a hand on the back of my neck and pulled me over for a kiss. It was quick, his lips barely glancing off of mine before he pressed his nose into my neck and breathed in, then did the same to my shirt collar, my hair. A dark chuckle started in my chest but stopped before I spoke. I realized that seeing this side of Eren did more for me than I’d felt all evening, at dinner or otherwise. “If you’re gonna smell me so hard, why not just swab my ass while you’re at it; I promise you it was just dinner.”

He breathed out hard against me before pulling back and half-rolling his eyes. “I know. I’m just…” The way his fingers tightened on my arms told me quite a bit more than he probably intended to show.

“How was the party?” I asked again, almost smiling this time.

“Fun,” he said simply.

We stood silent for a few moments, and his grip on my arms didn’t slacken. I reached up between us and touched a finger to the middle of his chest, humming the edge of a melody as I dragged it down and finally looked up at him. “So are you going to take me to bed?”

He hesitated very slightly. His bursts of fire and possessive intensity only came in waves, after all, and I was happy to be in the position of inspiring them. I leaned forward, rose to my toes, and spoke against his ear. “Yeah. I mean what you think I mean. That’s why I said it that way.” When I slipped back down to my natural height, and he still hadn’t responded, I glanced aside to afford him just a small bit of privacy and added, “If you’re so gung-ho to make sure I’m yours, then why don’t you?”

I paused and finally looked back at him. “In my current state, it’s probably best if I’m on my back.”

Eren was efficient, if nothing else. He grabbed me by the hand and led me to the bedroom, pushed me onto the mattress, pinned my wrists above my head so that I could only arch into his body while he growled into another wave of impressive sexual bravery. Giving someone else the control again was exactly what I needed. After that evening, after the empty feeling had made its home in my stomach, after _everything_ , I needed Eren jerking my pants off and then grabbing me by the knees, hitching me off of the pillow and dragging me in a breathtaking pull to his position on the bed. I wrapped my legs immediately around him and only let go to grope backwards for the box of condoms still sitting mostly-full on the cheap bookshelf I called a nightstand while we kissed.  

“Have you ever put one of these things on?” I asked him, panting as I held a Trojan between our faces.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“No you fucking won’t, you’ll fuck it up, let me do it.”

We only shifted briefly to allow it, and somehow what Eren might have only thought of as an interruption of his pace only made his face go redder and his breath shorter. Though I expected it, his dick was also harder, and fantastic, and _ready_ , and I was ready, and I was _so fucking ready_ because I’d been waiting literally since the day he first kissed me to feel what he was capable of doing inside me.

The preparations were trying our mutual patience, I knew, so I made a show of it. Eren pulled back far enough to watch me, holding my knees up and my legs apart as I plunged two fingers fast and rough in and out of my ass, swiped them around the bulls-eye, opened wider just by knowing he was looking. The leftover drunkenness bloomed hot in my cheeks as I pulled at my cock with my free hand and looked up at Eren.

“You’re really different like this,” he said, like it came as a complete surprise.

“Not really. Just a little.” I pulled out and dragged the tips of my fingers over the puckered opening, felt it gasp from the injustice of being left empty.

Eren gulped and dragged a slick hand over his erection, pointing it toward my ass before he managed to tear his eyes away from my display. “Well, I’ve never seen you like this, is what I mean.”

“Wait until you start fucking me,” I mumbled around a grin that I couldn’t suppress, and Eren took it as the invitation it was.

I used to like to think that being enthusiastic about sex was something I had to play into, to get what I wanted. To be a one night stand, I had to make sex the be-all and end-all. I liked being looked at, being desired, and being the center of someone’s attention for a few hours or even a few minutes. Whether the other person complemented that energy or not, it didn’t matter. If he wasn’t worth the energy but we were already too far to stop, I still played into it. Somewhere along the line I started to feel like sex was the only thing I was good at, and that’s when everything else started to seem pointless. So the cycle went on, and the cycle fed into other harsh self-assessments, and I lost all of it in a haze of amphetamines and hallucinogens, whatever I could get my hands on to get to the next day, the next party.

Sobriety had happened at a strange time in my sex life, and maybe I wouldn’t have held onto it had it not been for both of the men involved in the transition. But sobriety made me realize, in lonely moments and long introspective jags, that while sex wasn’t the only thing that I was good at, it was still something I enjoyed. The difference was choosing the people I invited to the playground, so to speak. If Eren had been any less fired up than he was, pushing firmly and slowly into me, watching my face for silent cues while I pushed my head back into the bed, stretching my neck and growling, reacquainting myself with the feeling of being filled, it wouldn’t have been right.

But it _was_ right. I’d chosen well. I almost laughed when he was completely inside of me and I got swept up in the truth of the matter, the reasonably overwhelming knowledge that yeah, this was something I might not fuck up. And god, I loved sex. God, I loved not having to feel like I was hiding inside of its fortress.

“Well?” I finally prompted him. He started moving inside of me immediately, head hung between his shoulders, those long, pretty muscles in his arms flexing deliciously as they held his weight. “You like that, don’t you?”

Eren groaned and looked at me, green eyes a little wild. He nodded.

“Come on, you can go deeper than that, I know you can. Don’t hold back, use that cock to _fuck_ me.” I demanded through clenched teeth, and after that it was all rock and roll.

I wrapped my legs around him again and forced his thrusts to a shallower angle, though he remained as powerful as before. He bent toward my face, but seemed hesitant, so I just grabbed his hair and pulled him in, kissing him hard.

The headboard was just barely within reach, so I grabbed it with my hands. I didn’t want him to come right away, of course, but it was too much fun to mess with him still, to see his face twist into those contorted expressions when he couldn’t quite comprehend how my voice made him feel when it said certain things. I picked the words and was about to say them, but my voice was suddenly stolen from me. “Ahhh, fuck! Yes!”

I rolled my hips hard against his next thrust and cried out on the unique, high pitch that only the right stimulation pulls out of me.

“Holy shit,” Eren panted. _You’re damn right._

“Don’t get distracted, keep it the fuck up.”

His cock kept hitting me just deep enough and I threw my hips into the upswing every time, eyes nearly watering by the time he announced with grave urgency that he was going to come.

“That’s the point.” My voice shook as I said it, and Eren gave me an ugly, gurgling moan to signal that he definitely, definitely knew.   

About a half an hour later, I was sitting up and he was staring at the ceiling. We’d both gotten our rocks off and I’d pissed most of the drunk out.

“So what did he need to tell you?” Eren asked, breaking the peaceful silence. I looked over with a quick chirp of confusion before I realized what he’d asked.

“Oh! Oh that… yeah. He’s going to be a dad.”

Eren sat up a little, on one elbow facing me. “What? Really?”

“Yeah, his wife’s pregnant. I guess he’s going through this crisis of conscience that I didn’t know, so that’s all that was about.”

“Oh.” He nodded.

“And he knows about you.”

This made Eren sit up completely. “He _knows about_ me?”

“Yeah, you put my garter on your mirror, kid,” I reached over and flicked his forehead. “Don’t look so surprised, those wings are my trademark.”

He _tsch_ -ed at me and leaned back against the headboard. “Weird.”

“That feeling is what we call _disquieting_ ,” I offered.

“Do you want me to take you back to your car?” He asked after a few more moments. He was already leaning over to get his pants. I grunted my disapproval at having to get dressed. “I work tomorrow morning, otherwise I wouldn’t leave, but—“

“No, don’t worry about it. Yeah, let me throw something on. Is it still cold as balls outside?”

“Depends.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and paused to turn back to me. “Are we talking about your balls? Then no.”

“Ah-ha,” I snapped and shot a finger gun at him. “That’s the way to counter a stupid idiom. You’re right, though, that phrase makes no fucking sense. Is it still cold as…” I thought about it. “…a witch’s tit, I like that one.”

“It’s chilly, yeah. Not _witch’s tit_ cold, but…”

“I’m wearing my leather jacket, then.”

“With all the patches on it? I like that jacket, it looks good on you.”

“Don’t let your mind wander too much, you’re still going right home and getting some sleep.”

I made him walk in front of me on our way to the car, against his will. He managed to go right home and, hopefully, get some sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love fall and I love writing scenes that take place in fall, so I decided to start this next small arc of development smack-dab in the middle of my favorite season. If you've been following me on Tumblr you've noticed a lot of mentions made by me (usually in response to questions from you guys!) about the "kids" and how we're starting a patch of the story that will glimpse a little more into their lives. Expect asides and maybe a _little less_ Levi than usual, but that's okay, right? Ah, and also: there's a little [Unspeakable Aside](http://jeanye-west.tumblr.com/post/60388410367/ficlet-1994-an-unspeakable-aside) that provides a bit of insight into something mentioned in this chapter. Explicit, porny insight, because I have no self-control. 
> 
> I'm taking all of your suggestions and questions into consideration, but the response is almost overwhelming! I'm sorry if I seem to be slacking on comment responses here on AO3, but between the comments here and a full inbox on Tumblr it's tough to keep up - thanks for sticking with me! :3
> 
> So... that said... 2SPOOKY.

I told Jean I didn’t want to go on a stupid hayride.

“What even is a hayride?” I asked, hurrying to the drink machine so I could score a can of Dr. Pepper to smuggle into History. I had three minutes, and would probably be late. I certainly didn’t have time to indulge horse face yammering at me.

“You’ve never been on a hayride? Are you serious?”

“I don’t know; is it something rich kids do?”

“Shut up, Eren.” He paused. “I don’t know, you just… The Haunted Hayride is tradition. Everyone meets up at Corning Farm at dusk and loads into hay carts, and a horse pulls you around while you just enjoy the fall weather and talk about ghost stories and crap, and then there’s a bonfire at the end and it’s awesome.”

“That sounds really boring. And Halloween is still two weeks away. And it costs money?”

“It’s two bucks a ticket; you spend that on soda every day.”

“I’m not giving up my soda to go on a hayride.”

“Eren, I’m Vice President of Key Club this year and it’s a fundraiser; if I don’t get more people to come they’re going to ream me.”

“Thought you liked being reamed, whether or not other people come.” I was proud of myself for that one.

“Fuck you, Jaeger,” he narrowed his eyes and looked a little brutal, actually. I chuckled.

“Who else is going?”

“Armin, of course. Mikasa said she’d come. You can bring people from outside school so I think she’s inviting Annie. Reiner. Ymir and Christa may or may not.”

“Is she dating Christa yet?”

“Don’t--” He started, then paused. “Christa thinks Ymir is straight.”

“Is she… is she _dumb?_ ”

“I think she’s just naïve, and that’s fine for Ymir. She still never shuts up about her. Just keep quiet about that, okay? Can you ask your other friends if they’ll come, at least?”

“I’ll go if Mikasa’s going,” I agreed on the compromise, and sighed as I heard the bell. “Don’t you have a class to get to, also?”

He shrugged and adjusted his backpack strap. “It’s just Life Management. Coach Ness teaches it, so he doesn’t really care.”

“Well, I have to go listen to Ms. Brzenska chew me out publicly for being late again, so bye.”

“It’s on Thursday!” He called after me, and I just turned around with a thumbs-up to indicate I’d heard him.

Corning Farm was the most well-known haunted place in the city, but I’d never heard the stories behind it. Mikasa hadn’t either, so she said we should go just to learn about that. The acreage was about ten miles out of town. It belonged to the most powerful landowners when the city was founded, and so a lavish ranch house was still there. The house was owned by the Trost historical society now, along with the grounds, mostly because no private investors wanted to buy it and the stories brought in a tiny bit of tourism.

I told Levi about the hayride, taking the roundabout way to invite him along, and he sneered. “Do you really think anyone would take kindly to me showing up at that thing?”

It was the first time I’d really felt the isolating feeling of knowing I couldn’t bring him as far into my everyday life as I wanted. He was right. Not only would it have been uncomfortable to explain, but Mr. Smith was the Key Club sponsor. There was no way he wasn’t going to be there. “Yeah. But it sounds like it would be right up your alley.”

“I used to sneak into Corning Farm, a few years ago when I was into witchcraft and shit. That place is huge, lots of weird vibes but it’s actually pretty peaceful to me. Maybe it depends on who you are. Tripped out on ‘shrooms there once, that was crazy. We’ll go back together on Halloween and sit in the middle of the fields, see if we can tempt some ghosts.” He looked actually giddy at the idea. I grinned only because I still didn’t know the stories about Corning Farm. If I’d known, my reaction might have been a little less enthusiastic.

It was cold on Thursday night. I wore a sweater under my jacket and broke out a pair of secondhand hiking boots, paying heed to the fliers around school that urged wearing jeans and heavy footwear.

Jean agreed to pick me up, since Mikasa was riding with Annie, who was apparently bringing along a friend I didn’t know. An unfamiliar face would have turned me into a ball of awkward energy, so I hopped into the backseat of Jean’s Cherokee, surprised to see that I wasn’t alone back there, either.

“Hey,” Reiner greeted me.

If I could have seen Jean’s face, I would have seen his look of apology. I couldn’t, though, so I just pulled my seatbelt on and paused uncomfortably before replying, “Hi.”

“Reiner didn’t have a ride so I had Jean pick him up.” Armin would tell me later how sorry he was that the gesture of kindness had just slipped out like that. By that point I wouldn’t care. But at least he was calmly informing me of who was to blame.

Reiner looked a little put off by my expression, and I couldn’t blame him. I still had to remind myself to look more approachable at times. Treading carefully was important, though: as far as I knew, Reiner still liked me, even though he knew from my own admission (being my usual loudmouth self at Jean’s last party) that I had a boyfriend.

We talked easily enough on the way out of town. Conversation turned to how the Titans had been absolutely destroyed at Homecoming, which may have explained how desperate for some positive attention Reiner had been ever since. He fumbled a touchdown pass in the 4th quarter and, though he was certainly not the only one who fucked up, as the team’s usual MVP and one of the best wide receivers in the district, he took the responsibility very seriously. He had also been looking into football scholarships. Those might not be coming, after such a disappointing season.

“It’s okay.” I looked over at him with what I hoped was a genuinely reassuring look. “I don’t think you’ll have a problem, you’re one of the top students in your class, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but I wanted to go to school for sports. That’s what my parents want.”

We were all oddly silent at that. Jean didn’t say anything because his parents were pushing him into law and he didn’t want to do it. Armin didn’t say anything because his parents weren’t around to dictate such things, and he was completely free to decide what he wanted to do. I didn’t say anything for obvious reasons. I hadn’t even started to think about life after high school yet. I still wasn’t ready to begin, so I tried to change the subject.

“How long is this thing supposed to last, anyway?”

“Don’t be so eager to get there, Eren,” Jean sniped.

“I just _asked_. I just want to _know._ ”

“I don’t know. It depends on how fun things get at the bonfire. I went to the one last year and it went until just before midnight.”

Of course it did. Key Club was the cool club, after all, the one the popular kids were in, the kids who could get away with late curfews and bonfires in the middle of nowhere on apparently haunted grounds. “You don’t even need to worry, Eren, it’s not like you need to get home early or anything.”

“What, do you not have a curfew?” Reiner asked.

I shrugged, not wanting to go into it too much. “It’s just… um, my dad isn’t really around. I can sort of set my own hours. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to get a decent amount of sleep, and since I’m stuck riding with you clowns—“ I was mostly referring to Jean.

“Eren just wants to run off and see Levi,” Armin offered. I knew it was his adept little way of mentioning my _taken_ status yet again, and silently I thanked him.

“Not really. No tonight,” I said, though I smiled.

Reiner laughed slightly, like it was a cut at the same time that it was amusing. “How old is your boyfriend again?”

“He’s 25.” I tried to play it off, holding my chin up as I said it. No one commented.

“I’m the only single one in this car; that’s lame as hell,” Reiner said, trying at least to be civil about it.

Jean saw the opportunity to offer an optimistic take on things. “Maybe you’ll meet someone tonight.”

“Unlikely, but thanks. Plus, I kind of… you know… I don’t know. I want to keep it sort of secret for now. You know. About me. Except for you guys. I don’t want everyone at school knowing.”

“Right on.” Knowing it wasn’t worth it to go down that road, Jean mercifully steered us away from talk of relationships. “Did everyone bring a flashlight? Because I have an extra one.”

We went off the subject, talking about nothing in particular until we reached our destination.

The small gravel parking lot for the Corning Farm grounds was already packed, so we parked on the edge of the street and started walking where the signs led us. “Maybe I should have been here earlier,” Jean said, after no less than three of his Key Club friends asked him where he’d been. It was already ten minutes after 5:00p.m. and it was getting dark. Things seemed to be about to start, though, and after paying we were told to find a cart as quickly as possible.

Only a few steps toward the assemblage of big, mostly loaded hay carts, I heard an all-too-familiar cry. “Hey! Eren! Over here!”

I glanced over and saw Mikasa standing up in her red flannel shirt and matching muffler, waving at me from one of the carts. “We saved this whole thing for you guys, get over here!”

“Mikasa to the rescue again,” Jean breathed in relief. “I was afraid we were going to be split up.”

Annie was sitting down on one of the hay bales that made makeshift seat rows, mostly hidden in a hooded jacket though I could tell her profile immediately from her nose. She glanced over me as the four of us made a ruckus climbing up and in. “Hi, Eren,” she acknowledged me with a smirk.

She still made me a little uncomfortable. I never knew what she was thinking. So I just waved at her, nodding a shaky hello before I was distracted by the stranger sitting next to her. I pointed at him and he looked away from me nervously.

I was about to ask who he was when Jean lunged past me. “Oh my god, is that Bertl the Turtle? It is!”

They were next door neighbors, it turns out, although Bertholdt Hoover went to St. Maria’s and rarely left the house otherwise. Jean had been teasing him since they were children for various things, including but not limited to his height, a stutter he had since worked past, and the fact that he cried a lot. Teasing someone for those things didn’t seem like a big stretch for someone like Jean, but he seemed to be playing nice as long as we were all forced into close quarters. Bertl looked older than he was, but he also seemed intimidated by everything. Despite the fact that he was only wearing a light Tommy Hilfiger sweater over a collared shirt I could swear he was sweating.

I sat next to Mikasa, toward the other end of the cart, and Jean sat in between Reiner and Armin. He purposefully put Reiner across from Bertl the Turtle, I noticed.

There was so much gay in that cart, it was already unbelievable, but then I shouldn’t have tempted fate by even thinking things like that. When it rains, it pours.

“Four, five, six, seven,” I heard being counted off next to me, and I knew the voice before I glanced over and saw Erwin Smith shouting over to someone else. “Seven in here, so mine’s ready!”

_Please god no, can this not be happening._

“I’ve got eight!” I heard someone shout back.

“That’s not my problem. All the other carts are already full. Sit in the middle. Let’s go.”

I kept my eyes ahead, and Jean caught my eyes while I tried to be cool. I expected him to shoot me a horrible, shit-eating grin, reveling in my embarrassment, but instead his face went pale as mine and he wilted a little towards Armin. “What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

Jean shot a few glances at Mr. Smith, who was still lost in conversation with someone else just out of earshot. “Nothing! Nothing, Eren. Shut up.”

Armin leaned over, cupping a hand over his mouth as Jean started to shout for him to not say a word. I couldn’t resist the look on Armin’s face, though, so I leaned forward to hear whatever he had to say. He was careful to whisper it right against my ear, giggling as Jean tried to pull him away. “Jean had a _dream_ about Mr. Smith.”

I loved how evil Armin could be, when he wanted to be, but I figured it was about time Jean was brought down a few pegs. I laughed so hard that Mikasa demanded to know what he had said, and Jean was just sitting there with a thunderstruck expression by the time the news traveled all around the cart and Mr. Smith finally climbed up to join us.

The way everyone went suddenly silent did not go unnoticed, but he tried to play it off. “Are we ready?” He asked. He looked like a different person in jeans and a leather bomber jacket, still too handsome for this world, but I tried not to stare. That was just weird, staring. I thought of how weird it must have been for Jean, and almost started laughing again. Mikasa caught my twitch, and hit my arm as she started to crack up as well.

“Yeah, we are,” Jean finally answered, shooting us both a poisonous look across the aisle.

Mr. Smith sat next to Armin, across from me at the end of the cart. I pointedly didn’t look at him, and wondered what I was going to do when he greeted me, which he did quite brightly. “Hi, Eren. Glad you came.”

Then, Mr. Zacharius ran up and thankfully distracted him. He was the AP Chemistry teacher, which meant I would likely never have one of his classes. I heard they were fun. “Shannon and Trey and one of Trey’s brothers just showed up, and I’m 99% sure they’re drunk.”

Erwin (I simply _couldn’t_ think of him as Mr. Smith; it left a bad taste in my mouth) shrugged. He also laughed, which jarred me even more. “Tell them to go home. It’s a school function.”

“You go do it.”

“I just got up here. You’re still on the ground. You have feet, go send them home.” 

Reiner leaned forward and interrupted. “Hey, Mr. Z! if we’re out late at this thing do we still have to turn in our lab reports tomorrow?”

Mr. Zacharius leaned forward over crossed arms and shook his head, barely reacting. “Yes, Mr. Braun. Yes you do.”

“But we’re here supporting a school club!”

“It’s not my club, it’s his.” He jerked a thumb toward Erwin, who appeared to roll his eyes but I didn’t care to look too closely. “Should have thought of that before you decided to have school spirit.”

“Mike.” That was Erwin, warningly.

“All right. I’m leaving. Gonna go be an authority figure or something, I guess.”

I suddenly really wanted to work hard enough to get into AP Chemistry just so I could be in his class the next year.

The sun had set by the time we started rolling, and Mikasa kept getting my attention just long enough that I turned to her and she made some hideous face while holding her flashlight just under her chin. The lights from the street and the ranch house were gone, and Armin was turned around to sweep his flashlight around the field by the time Erwin spoke up.

“Okay, this is the part where I’m supposed to tell you all about the legend of Corning Farm.”

“What if we’ve already heard it?” Annie asked in a challenging monotone.

“I’m sorry, have we met?” Erwin countered her. I couldn’t help perking up a little at the almost _sassy_ way he said it.

“My name’s Annie,” she answered with a short, snorting chuckle.

“Annie, if you already heard it, why did you pay two dollars to be here tonight?”

Mikasa laughed out loud and I heard Jean snicker. Annie just murmured “whatever” and sat back in her seat, but I glanced over to see Mikasa smack her lightly on the head when she did.

“Does anyone _not_ know?” Erwin asked once she was dealt with, and lit each of us with his flashlight in turn. Mikasa and I, of course, had our hands up. So did Bertl. So did Armin, who looked psyched beyond all belief to hear whatever was coming. “All right. This is going to be fun, then.”

He went over what I already knew; how the Cornings were descended from the city founders, how they owned most of the land surrounding the city and built their farm into an agricultural fortune in the 1800’s prior to the Civil War. Then, he started to get to the things I didn’t know.

“In the 1800’s they built walls around their property. We’re going to be riding past some of them. Big walls, stone walls, with no apparent purpose. They didn’t tell anyone why, they just started doing it, which is why the little town off to the North is called Corning Wall. Then, the reports started to get filed. The sheriff started to get called to the farm. Now, these are all documented reports. You can really go look them up. James Corning III was apparently sort of a kook and was convinced that there were creatures coming out of the forest at night and eating his livestock. That’s why he built the walls, he said, because he was terrified of these creatures. He said they looked like men with pig bellies and pig faces. Now, whether or not _that_ was true is up to legend. But reports do exist talking about the mutilated bodies of cows and pigs being found on the grounds, ripped apart. There aren’t wolves in the area, and apparently the wounds didn’t seem to be from any common predator. One of the sheriff’s reports actually describes the wounds on one pig looking as if it were torn apart limb by limb, muscle rended from bone as if by force, with no claw or teeth marks _.”_

I shone my flashlight on Armin’s face. He was staring at Erwin, listening intently with his mouth half open. When he noticed me looking, he put his flashlight on me, as well, and we exchanged an impressed look, trying to hide how creeped out we suddenly were. Erwin went on. “Some years down the line the police were on a search party for a man who went missing on a hunting trip, and they came to the edge of the Corning property. They found one of the gates in the wall with a bullet hole near it and asked to search, just in case the missing hunter had wandered in somehow. When Mrs. Corning was told about the search she immediately started to claim the hunter had probably run afoul of the creatures, and tried to stop the police from getting in. Of course this aroused suspicion. Mr. Corning let them in with no problems, much to his wife’s dismay.

“They found what they were looking for, in a strange way. It was in the house basement – the hunter, and three other missing people – blinded with their tongues cut out. The family had been experimenting on them, the story goes. There were more bodies buried around the farmgrounds, apparently, so this whole place was shut down. They weren’t just regular dead bodies, though. Corning had tried transplanting livestock and human organs, he tried to make hybrid people. When they exhumed the grounds they found mutilated and sewn-together bodies, most unidentifiable, buried right in the soil where the food was grown.”

Erwin paused for effect at that, and I heard Bertl whine a little. When I glanced over, trying not to fling my light too obviously, I caught the space between Annie and Mikasa and noticed they were holding hands. I didn’t know how to feel about that, but I did see Reiner leaning over to whisper something to Bertl before Erwin went on. “Corning was declared insane and institutionalized, and claimed until the day he died that he’d been possessed by the creatures, and didn’t do anything wrong. The creatures he had been _creating_ , so to speak, were the ones he was most terrified of, it seems. One of the daughters escaped persecution and changed her name, though, they say. So who knows who’s descended from her now.”

Mikasa and I exchanged a look, as if we’d both had the same thought at the same time. Then I noticed that Armin was giving me a similar look. Only Jean seemed unaffected by that little addition. His family had moved to town from Minnesota.

“Any questions?” Erwin asked, and I did see the mischievous smile on his face when I glanced over.

“Yeah, if we get jumped by any creatures or poltergeists or anything, I’m throwing you and Reiner in front of them. That’s not a question. I just want to put that out there,” Jean said. He knew the stories, yes, but obviously they still affected him to some extent.

“Mikasa might be a good choice, too,” Erwin remarked, no less than happy to give a subtle nod to the obvious. “You guys put a good group together here for survival purposes.”  

“Annie’s a black belt,” Mikasa added.

“Yo.” Annie waved.

Jean scoffed, though it wasn’t at Annie. “Man… Sir. I was warned not to ever be in your cart.” He was still addressing Erwin. “You tell that story really well. It’s creepy when you do it.”

“Thanks, I guess? I used to be a History teacher, I have to make things sound interesting. I feel sorry for whoever’s in Mike’s cart, it’s his first year and he’s a bad storyteller.”

I looked over at Jean, waiting until he caught my eye, and it was like he remembered all at once why he’d been so awkward at the beginning of the hayride. For a split-second I wondered how that dream had been. The level of his suddenly returning mortification seemed to indicate it had been a good one, at least.

We went on exchanging a few other ghost stories and jumping at every little noise that we weren’t making. It turns out that Reiner’s great-great-grandmother was actually accused of being a witch in rural West Virginia, and he had an endless supply of great, short, and undeniably hair-raising anecdotes that had been passed down since her time. Bertl seemed very interested, actually loosening up a little as he listened. Maybe he had a macabre side.

After Jean mentioned that he’d heard about the ghosts messing with people who visited Corning Farm – turning them around in the fields so they couldn’t find their way out or stealing things from them while they were there, for instance – Erwin grunted thoughtfully. “They say that ghosts only keep haunting because they don’t know they’re ghosts yet.”

It seemed too profound a statement to leave alone, so I thought about it as tiny conversations went around the cart. Maybe it went the same for people, who didn’t know whether they were one thing or the other, who didn’t know where they belonged.

When we rode past the wall, everyone got quiet. I wasn’t prepared for how big it actually was. It was cracked and crumbling in some spots, and made an eerie picture in the flashlight beams. “Whoa,” Armin finally said, and I knew his mind was racing on all the details, all the stories behind the stories. He’d probably head down to the public records office, knowing him, and actually dig up the reports Erwin had mentioned.

I took the chance, in the silence, to look at Erwin. Thankfully, he wasn’t looking back at me. He did, however, have a pensive expression on his face, like he was waiting for something.

You know that thing I’ve mentioned before, about my intuition? I had literally a split second to read the situation, and knew what was going to happen, but I didn’t have any time to react. It was called a _Haunted Hayride,_ after all. I should have known. I felt sort of stupid for not figuring it out, even as someone dressed in full black, face hidden by a hood, came running at our cart from the darkness, breaking the silence with a blood-curdling noise.

Mikasa cried out first with a terrified peal of laughter, and leapt over into what I could only assume were Annie’s arms. I pushed back against her but kicked on instinct toward the figure before my brain even took the time to remind me that it wasn’t an actual attacker.

The most interesting thing was that, across from me, Jean had leaned (also laughing and wheezing in terror) into Armin, grabbing him around the waist, but Armin had actually thrown his arms around _Erwin_. I had to smile at the awkwardness of the whole scene, before I even got my adrenaline in check and bothered to check on what was happening at the other end of the cart.

Reiner had actually fallen forward into the aisle and had one hand clamped over his mouth. He’d grabbed one of Bertl’s legs. Bertl wasn’t saying anything; he seemed more shocked by Reiner than he was by the jump scare, and not necessarily in a bad way.

As she recovered, Mikasa hit me on the shoulder. “Ahh!” She cried as she did.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“I don’t know, I just have a lot of energy now!” She did it again. We were both laughing hysterically, and the laughter passed naturally to everyone else as we commented on our respective states of shock and terror.

By the time our cart reached the bonfire area, we were all full of energy we didn’t quite know what to do with. We’d moved on to talking about Jean’s upcoming Halloween party. “It’s movie themed,” he informed us. “That means you’d better dress up as a character from a movie, or you’re not getting in.”

“Can I come?” Annie chirped.

“Yeah, sure,” Jean waved a hand in the air. My mind was already racing on who I might dress up as. Something easy. It had been years since I’d had reason to put any effort into a Halloween costume. I was almost too distracted to react when Jean added, “Eren, I think it would be cool if you bring Le—“ He remembered himself halfway, but it was too late to stop. “—vi.”

Everything got _incredibly_ awkward for a few moments.

Annie was the only one who had absolutely no perspective on the situation who was likely to speak up, and so she did. “Is that your brother’s boyfriend or something?” She asked Mikasa.

“Yeah…” Mikasa answered slowly, and none of us really moved for a bit as the cart slowed.

“Wow. Sure is quiet in here.” Annie added.

“Well,” Erwin finally said, and stood up once we came to a full stop. “I’d better go see if I can lend a hand getting the bonfire set up. I’ll see you kids around.”

“Thanks for telling us all of that!” Armin spoke up eagerly, like he’d forgotten the strange energy Jean’s slip caused. It _had_ melted away rather quickly. “That was really cool.”

Just as he said it, a few guys from a nearby cart were walking by. They obviously heard Armin talking, saw him standing up, and decided to take the opportunity for what it was. One of them coughed into his hand and turned it into a rather loud “Faggot!”   

Obviously they hadn’t noticed Erwin, who zeroed in with lightning quickness. “Hey!”

I’d never heard his voice rise so quickly. It made me short of breath, to be honest. The boys turned around. Erwin didn’t take the time to reprimand anyone in particular; he just pointed firmly and asked with a particularly dark expression, “What’s your name?”

The boy hesitated. “Uh… Roger.”

“You’re lying. I know who you are. Brent Wallace, I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t think I’m messing around because I’m _not,_ you are getting called to my office _tomorrow._ And if you’re not there tomorrow it’ll be Monday.”

“But I—“

“Tomorrow. Go on.” The boy was going to protest again, but Erwin just added another, louder, “ _Go_.” And that was that.

We were all a little stunned at the way he’d said all that. I couldn’t speak for the inner thoughts of anyone else, but for me at least it was a breakthrough moment. Maybe hearing Levi’s name had sparked something in Erwin, but it was exactly the sort of reaction I’d been hoping for weeks ago, to see that light of fury in his eyes.

Armin just smoothed out his hair and hesitated, still a little shaken. “Um… thank you, sir.”

“I just can’t stand punks like that,” Erwin said, his voice deep and clipped. “That word makes me want to hurt someone.” He paused, and tried to look a lot sunnier as he turned to us. “So I just have to do what I can, in the position I have. He’ll get what’s coming to him. Have a good time, you guys. Drive safely.”

“Thanks,” went the chorus from everyone else.

I added my own, slightly out-of-sync “Thanks,” and noticed when he paid particular attention to it with a sad-smile quirk of his lips.  

“Uhhh, that’s not what I expected to happen.” Jean stood up and wrapped his arms around Armin quickly. “I’m sorry, baby,” I heard him mumble.

Armin, though he patted Jean’s hand appreciatively, looked like he was lost in an extended moment of hero worship. His eyes were still following in Erwin’s direction. I smirked and hopped down out of the cart.

I wound up hanging out with Ymir and Christa, who pulled me away from Jean and Armin to talk about comics once they learned that I’d read my fair share of them. There was a portable sound system set up, and it was playing an album by Dave Matthews Band that had only come out a couple of weeks ago. We’d all heard the lead singles from the radio, of course, but the whole record seemed to be a perfect backdrop to the huge, crackling fire on the cold October night while I talked about _Knightfall_ with the only other two people I’d met who’d read it.

On the way home, far earlier than I’d feared, Jean started to interrogate Reiner about Bertl. “What did you two get up to after we split up at the bonfire?”

“Well, it turns out we were in the same classes in elementary school. I just didn’t remember him well because he looked really different back then. So we talked about that. He’s into soccer – plays soccer, actually – so I asked him about that because I’m sick of talking about football. Um…” He trailed off.

“Come on, Reiner, every single one of us is sitting here wondering if you like him.”

Reiner sighed heavily, treating it all as a sad joke. “He’s not—“

“I’m willing to bet money that he is!” Jean interrupted. “There’s something in the water on my street.”

“Jean, you need to stop making bets, you always lose them,” Armin remarked. I threw my head back and laughed at that.

I’d have enough saved up for a month or two of car payments by Christmas. I’d picked out something modest, and Jean had surprisingly treated the whole thing with humble sincerity. _“You deserve it, I guess. Not for that. Just because you’re a good person and you mean a lot to someone I love.”_  

It was the first time I’d heard him use the L-word about Armin, and though the moment took us both a few cleared throats to get over, I advised him that I wanted a Honda Civic and left it at that.

Jean dropped me off at the house. He was going to pull up to the curb as usual, but noticed that the curb was occupied by a 1987 Mustang. He had enough insight into the situation to hold his tongue, and pulled up slowly next to it, getting as close to my house as he could.

“Is that Annie’s car?” He asked after the silence stretched on just a little too long, and I hesitated to open the door.

“Eren, do you want me to go in with you?” Armin asked softly. I heard Jean whisper a little “ _oh”_ before he shut up for good.

“Nah.”

“You can spend the night at my house, if you like.”

“Nah!” I said, trying to sound completely unfazed. “I’m fine. It’ll be fine; I need to talk to him at some point.”

“Your dad?” Reiner caught the weight of my tone and peered at the Mustang himself.

“Yeah.”

He nodded solemnly and tilted his head in a subtle but encouraging gesture.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” I said, trying not to be completely lifeless as I put one foot out the door and felt the heat of Jean’s idling car cut by the chill of the night air. “I’ll see you guys at school.”

I crept inside, considered the darkness throughout the house a small mercy, and hoped I hadn’t been heard as I made my way to bed without even brushing my teeth or taking a piss. I just toed off my shoes and curled under my blankets, turning toward the wall so I might not feel the sudden weight on my chest quite so heavily.   

I’d really wanted to call Levi before I went to sleep, was the thought I couldn’t shake.

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I know it took a long time to update but I actually see this one as something of a triumph because I managed to write it in the middle of the most colossal work week I’ve had in forever (back to two jobs, uugghhhH). I’ve done a lot of work with the plotting of the story going forward – no huge plot arcs, but getting to the meat of what’s making Eren and Levi click needed some tweaking.
> 
> The story got really heavy, I know. Being 16 tends to be really heavy, though. Luckily I have the aside system in place to hammer out some more uplifting/less gut-punchy stuff.
> 
> I actually planned to keep this chapter going a little longer – 19 and 20 are going to work like one continuous chapter, really, so for once I am VERY sorry for the cliffhanger. If I had time to sit here and hammer out 6000 more words I totally, totally would! I’ll be working on it, though (and on that Reiner/Bertl aside…). 
> 
> *sings “ch-ch-ch-chaaaaanges”*

Mom knew, of course. She must have been clearly aware that she was the glue holding us together. I know this because I remember one of the last nights she could talk, about a week before she died; she was with me in the living room while everyone else – dad, Mikasa, her hospice nurse –  got some shut-eye. She said, “Please be patient with dad. He’s trying his best.”

It was only in honor of her request that I kept reminding myself to bite my lip and count to ten. Sometimes I was happy when dad wasn’t there just because I didn’t have to focus so much on not losing my temper.

When I got up the morning after the hayride just in time to get ready for school, I could hear voices in the kitchen. Only one was Mikasa’s. I tried to fool myself that I didn’t recognize dad’s voice, but it still sounded exactly the same.

I purposefully lingered in the bathroom, getting dressed. When I emerged I only had five minutes before I needed to leave the house if I wanted to get my usual parking spot. Mikasa turned in her chair and glared at me immediately, like she was blaming me for leaving everything in her hands for so long. “Good morning,” I greeted her. I ignored dad.

He’d been young when I was born. He looked old now, older than he was, older than I remembered him looking last time I saw him, which had been months ago. “Good morning,” he turned and greeted me, pointed with a spatula at a plate of pancakes and bacon.

“I don’t have time to eat,” I said, and caught Mikasa’s eyes meaningfully when I passed.

Her voice sounded completely colorless when she spoke. “You have to go to school with me. Dad’s taking the station wagon later. So we’ve got about an hour.”

Mikasa still left for school with just enough time to make the bell. Trapped, I looked at dad with a blaming expression.

He shrugged. “Oil change, new air filter.” After clearing his throat, pretending to ignore my anger as I fell heavily into a chair and let my backpack drop, he went on. “Mikasa tells me you’re getting a car of your own, soon.”

I felt the spot between my eyebrows creasing, but I remembered mom’s advice and answered him. “Yeah. I got a job. I’ve been saving up.”

“At the gas station, right?” He pushed a plate closer to me and, sighing, I grabbed a fork just to give myself something to do. I wasn’t going to deny that I was hungry. I didn’t answer his first question. “What sort of car are you getting?”

“A Civic,” I said before I shoved a forkful of pancake into my mouth.

“Dad’s been in Pennsylvania,” Mikasa mentioned with a nearly-exasperated breath.

Remembering she was there to back me up, and that dad was almost never assertive with us, I got sharper. “What were you doing in Pennsylvania?”

“Odd jobs,” he said, and I didn’t want to hear what he had to say after that. Pennsylvania was too far away to be the only place where odd jobs existed. However, I couldn’t help hearing what he said next. “I actually got a permanent position. A really good job. In Allentown.”

I tried not to tense up, but I did. Next to me, just barely in my periphery, I saw Mikasa clench her fork tighter, rubbing her thumb anxiously on the flat of it.

“Good for you,” I said flippantly.

“I start in three weeks, so I’m here to see if the house can get enough to pay off the mortgage. Selling the station wagon, too. We won’t need four cars. We might be stuck in an apartment for a few months when we get there, but—“

I didn’t want to interrupt him, because what he was saying sounded so unreal. “Wait,” I interrupted.

He paused only long enough to let me know that he was aware of my tone, and what it was for. “The house might not sell right away. As long as the house is here, you don’t have to leave. But when it does sell—“

“No, _wait_.”

Mikasa had put her fork down, and was holding her hands under the table. I didn’t need proof to know she was making fists.

Dad faced me and crossed his arms, like he was going to be kind enough to _allow_ me a rebuttal. I felt not even a shred of authority from him, not even a glimmer of the compassion I maybe should have been feeling. I wasn’t happy for him, or _grateful_ toward him, but my heart was wrenching on the opposite tack. Suddenly I didn’t care what mom had told me. That had been years ago. He hadn’t been trying at all. Only one of us had held up our end of the bargain. My obligation was fulfilled.

“We can’t _move_! You can’t make us move!”

He sighed loudly. “I hate to be this way.” No he didn’t. “But I actually can.”

“Why can’t you get a job here?” I countered, my voice rising. I’d dropped my fork on the plate to gesture as my mind started racing with everything this meant. “Why can’t you even _be_ here? Where have you _been?_ ”

“Eren…”

“All my friends are here! All of Mikasa’s friends are here! If you make us move now I might as well just die!”

“…calm down.”

“No! No, I’m not going to calm down, you come back here and think you can suddenly be our father when you’ve not cared for years? No!” It was suddenly like the adrenaline dropped out and I was empty. The crushing inevitability of everything came down on top of me and I couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe. I hid my face in my hands and growled. I wondered why Mikasa wasn’t saying anything.

Maybe she’d already reached the same point.

“Eren, it’s not going to be right away. You’ll have some time to—“

“Time to what?” I asked sharply, looking back up at him. God, I wished I could just forget he was even there. I wished I could disappear on him just like he disappeared on me. “Not time to make better grades or better friends or—“ I wanted to say something else. I wanted to say something about Levi. I wanted to say _my boyfriend_ and throw it in his face, but I didn’t want to risk derailing the conversation. “You’re saying I have time to say goodbye! I have time to get used to the idea! No! I’m not going!”

He was growing tired of my attitude, but I could tell he’d anticipated it. He was horrible at arguing. “Yes you are,” he said calmly, turning back to the stove.

“I’ve gotten by this long without you.”

That seemed to set him off slightly. Next to me, Mikasa whispered, “ _Eren.”_ But I ignored her.

Dad turned around and waved a hand in the air. “And who pays for the mortgage? The bills? Who gives you the money to eat on? Whose house do you live in?”

“I’ve got a job.”

“You’ve got a part-time job, and I’m still your legal guardian.”

My bottom lip quivered. “You’re an awful father.”

He didn’t answer. He actually looked away from me. He knew he deserved it.

I wanted a reaction. I balled my fist and hit the table with it, making the dishes clatter and Mikasa jump. “Fuck you! You’re an _awful_ father! Mom would be so mad at you! She’d hate you!”

Mikasa reached out and grabbed at my shirt sleeve. “Eren, let’s go to school.”

Dad didn’t react to me. He let Mikasa tell me it was time to leave the house, he let her drag me out even though I protested and asked her why she wasn’t saying anything and nearly cried. When we were in the Buick she finally looked at me, and I noticed the way her cheeks were mottled. Her eyes were bloodshot. She’d been crying, herself. “I can’t fucking believe this,” she said first. I’d been expecting a reprimand.

“Maybe he’s not serious.”

“He’s serious.” Mikasa sat there with her hands on the wheel, but she hadn’t even taken out her keys. “That’s why he’s not getting pissed off at you. He wants it to sink in. I told him you were gonna go off.”

“Did you? Did you go off?”

“You know…” She paused, and I saw her lips move on something unspoken before she shook her head with a tiny, violent motion, like she suddenly remembered where she was and what she was doing. She gulped and reached into her purse, pulling out the keys finally. I barely heard her speak over the jangling of them. “I don’t think I could react, it’s like it all hit at once. I still haven’t reacted really.”

She put the key in the ignition and cranked the car. Immediately I reached for the heater and turned it on full blast. It wasn’t _that_ cold outside, but I was freezing, shivering. I looked out the window as she backed out of the driveway.

“I don’t want to go to school,” she said flatly. Her tone of voice was odd, so I turned and stared at her. Mikasa was frowning so deeply, I wondered if I’d ever seen that look on her face before. Maybe she was being petulant. I’d never seen her being petulant. She’d always been the strong one, ever since she came to live with us. Long seconds passed. She stopped at the intersection on the end of our street. Then, she started to slap her hands hard against the wheel, so hard that I heard the dull metal springing sound of the steering column being jostled. “ _What’s the fucking point? Why are we even trying?_ ”  

I didn’t react, because none of us were reacting. We were all coming to terms with it in little explosions of our own, so I was just going to sit there with my hands stuffed into the pockets of my jacket, my knees up against the dashboard while I waited for my next one to hit.

Mikasa peeled out of the intersection and started to speed down the main road. I threw her a quick glance but there was no way I was going to judge her, or even be worried. So what if we crashed? So what if she got pulled over? What did it matter? She was right.

She didn’t need to tell me for me to know that we were ditching school. I angled my head against the glass and let her drive me where she felt, and eventually she started talking, started letting out her feelings about it, and didn’t shut up. I liked letting her talk. She said nothing new, and didn’t really touch on anything I wasn’t already thinking, but it felt nice to have someone else voice all of it.

“Yeah,” I occasionally threw in.

We went to a gas station, I got a couple of sodas, and we sat on the curb talking at a more reasonable volume. I finally started talking back, and one of the first things I said was: “You should just run away. We should just move out. What about when he finds out I’m gay, what about when he finds out you do drugs?”

“Are you kidding?” She rolled her eyes and swigged from her Cherry 7-Up. “Dad’s a pothead.”

I hadn’t known that, so I just nodded solemnly. Mikasa went on. “He’ll have to stop if this job thing is legit, but still. _God!_ I don’t know what I think. I have to think about it a little more.”

When Mikasa didn’t automatically agree with the thought of going it on our own, when she didn’t mention it or suggest it first, that’s when I started to worry.

I stood up and searched my pockets for change. “I’m going to call Levi,” I said, turning a quarter between my thumb and middle finger.

“Hn,” Mikasa grunted in response.

I’d only called him a few times, really. Usually I just went to see him, at work or after. Three rings in, I realized it was only 7:30 a.m., and I seized. Too late to take it back now. Too late to crawl into myself and deny it was an emergency.

When Levi answered, his voice sounded so deep and scratchy that it took my breath away. “Hello?”

“H-hey. Hi, it’s me.” I barely managed to say it.

“What time is it?” He asked.

“Like half past seven.”

“In the morning?” His voice achieved an unusual and adorable high-pitched edge beneath the roughness, like he was in pain at the prospect. I sighed past it because I knew I couldn’t dwell on it. “Christ…”

“I’m… I really need to talk to you.”

“Why aren’t you in school?” Like he hadn’t even heard what I’d said, like it was all hitting him as his brain caught up to being awake.

“I skipped.” I paused. “We skipped. Something happened.” I didn’t want to be overly dramatic, but I also didn’t feel like I had the capacity to elaborate at that moment.

I could hear him scratching his head on the other end of the line. He stopped when I said the last part. He paused for a beat. “Are you okay?” Suddenly his voice was 100% clear.

“I guess so,” I struggled to put it in the right words.

“Is everything okay?”

I realized, snapping out of my selfish haze, that I was worrying him. “I’m safe! I’m safe, I’m just… something happened. My dad’s home. I’ve got a lot going on and it’s pretty heavy, I wanted to know if I can come over?”

“Sure.” It sounded like he was stretching as he said it. He seemed sweeter when I woke him out of a dead sleep. My head ached to think about that, though, with everything else that was on my mind. “I mean, Hanji’s here. She crashed last night after we drank a little bit too much but yeah, totally. Let me put on some coffee, come over.” He started to yawn.

Levi told me to be careful before he said goodbye. He thanked me for calling him, and that’s what stuck with me when I told Mikasa I wanted her to drop me off at his apartment.

She needed to go up with me to use the bathroom, she said, even though Mikasa had never even been inside of his place. I could tell she was hesitant to let me go. When Levi answered the door in a pair of black sweatpants and a sweatshirt, he invited her in, and told me while she slipped from sight that she could stay if she wanted.

The coffee was fresh, a welcome bit of warmth in my belly as I explained what was happening, not taking my eyes away from the mug in my hands. Hanji was barely awake and had joined us, wrapped in a blanket and sitting across from me. I wondered, quickly, if it was the first time all four chairs at Levi’s dining room table had been occupied.

“Oh, _honey…_ ” Hanji breathed, empathy ringing true in her voice as soft as it was. I’d been silent for a few seconds. I was scared to hear what Levi had to say when he finally spoke.

“Have you tried _talking_ to him?”

I looked up immediately and glared at him, knitting my brows, almost angry at what my brain read as an accusation. I wasn’t in the right humor to be having a conversation so important, but that’s just how life was starting to go for me. “Yes! And he shot me down, every time!”

Mikasa finally threw in. “To be fair, Eren, you sort of yelled at him.”

“I was mad!”

Then, she shifted in her seat and she got firm, she got loud. “Look, I’m upset, too, but I had to think about it a lot. And really, at the end of the day, I want someone there. I want to know that if someone breaks into the house it’s not down to me and you to defend ourselves. I wanna know there’s food waiting at home, every night. I asked him if things were going to be different and he said yes, they are. And he’s sorry.”

“I don’t believe that,” I said, shaking my head. In a way, sure, I understood where she was coming from. But I’d grown up a lot since mom died, and I had dad to thank for that in all the worst ways; ways that didn’t require his presence, and ways that certainly didn’t involve me trusting him to change. “How can _you_ believe it?”

Another miniature explosion hit, rocked her, put a desperate snarl on her face as she yelled, “Because I’ve had too many people die on me, and I don’t want to just up and walk out on someone who’s still trying!”

My eyes flicked over to Levi only momentarily. I was torn between wanting to pull Mikasa into my arms and apologize, or to keep arguing with her over where dad’s heart really was. If my suspicions were correct, there was someone in Pennsylvania I didn’t want to meet, someone he would swear wasn’t intended to be a replacement for mom, and by the time he lured us there it would be too late to say no. I’d said as much to Mikasa in the car.

Levi stayed silent. He hadn’t been smoking as much, since we’d been dating, but he’d lit up during the conversation. I heard his cigarette tapping against the edge of the ashtray while I looked back at Mikasa. She twisted up her face and urged me silently to say something, anything. But what could I say?

Unexpectedly, it was Hanji who spoke up before anyone else. Her voice was unusually calm, completely even. “Eren, Mikasa, I want to let you know that you can stay with me if you want. You two don’t have to be homeless, okay?”

I didn’t have time to react, to tell her that wasn’t what was going to happen, before I heard the chair next to me scoot back sharply. I turned and saw Levi push away from the table, rising to his feet and turning away before I could ask where he was going.

He went to the door. He walked out and shut it behind him. Puzzled and still frazzled out of my wits. I looked at Hanji and shrugged. She shook a hand in her hair (which appeared to have glitter in it) and gestured at the door as if she had nothing to offer the situation other than an acute knowledge of how impossible Levi was liable to be in any given situation.

I followed him.

“You should really be in there talking to your sister,” Levi warned me as I came out on the landing. He was leaning over the edge of the railing, back bent like a vulture, a strip of pale skin showing where his sweatpants rode down. He’d only just placed a new cigarette between his lips. He shot me a quick glance, which I couldn’t easily identify.

“She’s fine. We’ve talked a lot already.”

“Oh?” Levi turned toward me, leaving the cigarette in his mouth and patting himself down until he found the lighter in his pocket. Tilting his head, cupping his hands, he lit up. “Seems like she just dropped a small bomb on you.”

“Well, okay, neither of us are fine, but—“ I shook my head and tried not to growl in frustration. “What’s wrong with you? Why did you just walk out like that?”

He glared. I thought he was about to come down hard on me for daring to question his behaviors, but instead he just sighed and blew out the smoke with the cigarette still between his lips. It billowed up and mixed with some steam from his breath in the cold air. “Come on, I don’t want to have this conversation in a stairwell in a low-rent apartment complex. I don’t want to be those people.”

“What conversation?” My heart dropped. I just wanted to kiss him. He’d embraced me sweetly when I showed up, stroked my hair, kissed me with every intention to take care of my trauma and lick my wounds, but then I told him what the wounds were. He’d closed off completely since then.

I wanted to assure him that I didn’t intend to leave, no matter what my dad said. But that only seemed to be part of the problem to address.

“I might get mad at you, I might yell at you.” He checked to make sure I was listening. I stayed stock-still. We were having this conversation in a stairwell after all, it seemed.  He turned away before he continued. “You can’t just run away. You can’t run away from your dad, not because he’s your _dad_ , but because at least it’s a chance. At least you have that chance, to get out, to have support. Don’t fuck something up just because—“

“A chance to do what? To leave all my friends behind? To leave _you_ behind?”

“Pennsylvania’s like five hours away, I can—“

“No!”

Levi paused. “Is this what you did to him this morning? Shouting down reason?”

A ball was in my throat. It felt uncomfortable, heavy, like I was digging my own grave but I didn’t want to stop. “I’m just starting to get my shit together, I don’t want to leave.”

“Yeah, but there might come a day when you regret going it alone. I mean, I’m standing here _really believing in you_ , but at the same time I don’t know how you’ll take that pressure when you also have to worry about your own bills, your own job, your own life. _That’s_ what family is for, that’s what a parent is for, and that’s what he’s offering to do, don’t you see that? I want you to go to college, and how will you do that if he can’t help you, if his name can’t go on a piece of paper so you can get loans or housing? Huh? I mean, sure! Sure you can jump from crash pad to crash pad, rely on your friends, rely on strangers even, but it’s limiting. Trust me, I’ve been there. Not having a permanent address is shitty. You won’t be able to do so much. Even years down the line it’ll have ramifications. I don’t want to see you just another piece of poor trash at the vo-tech school because you can’t afford better, I want you to have a _choice._ ”

I held up a hand, and, upon realizing he was finished with his tirade after all, I arched an eyebrow sharply at him and opened my mouth to speak. I realized I had nothing to say. Or rather, I had _everything_ to say, but I couldn’t express it. So I just ignored the process, ignored all attempts by my brain to articulate why I was arriving at my gut feeling. I wasn’t good at talking the way Levi was. I just opened my mouth.

The words were cold when I spoke them. “Don’t turn me into your project.”

Levi closed his eyes desperately, a wash of humility damping his face. He knew just the way anyone knows. He knew that he fucked up. With a groan I could barely hear, deep in his throat like he was fighting a horrible stomachache, Levi turned to the railing and leaned over it. He put his whole body into a long pause, like I could watch the way his heart dropped out and then started beating again in the movement. “That’s not what I meant,” he finally said, flicking away his cigarette, but I was already prepared with my retort.

“You want to turn me into what you couldn’t be, so you’re throwing me all this fucking _wisdom,_ like—“

He turned to me, still not looking right at me, hands pressed together in a praying motion. “That’s _not_ what I _meant.”_

“—I don’t want a dad! I’ve gotten by fine without a dad. I need a boyfriend. I’m starting to feel like you don’t even think I can do anything on my own! I don’t want all of these doubts, I just want someone to love me!”

I said it, as usual, before I knew what I was saying. And in my heart I knew it was too soon. The fact that he made my world better, that I lit up when I was around him, and that I looked forward to just _talking_ to him more than I ever thought I would look forward to anything – all of that wasn’t enough to prop up my needs over the fact that Levi wasn’t ready. That wasn’t something we’d discussed, it was just something I felt. Intuition. So he let the words hang unanswered between us, and looked up at me.

His eyes searched my face and his mouth drew into a long, unreadable expression. I’d come across a word reading a William Faulkner story for English – crestfallen. When I looked it up, I was really impressed that the word sounded exactly like what it meant. That’s how Levi looked: crestfallen.

I worried about what he might say, but then he didn’t say anything. He stepped forward and shrugged a little, opened his mouth but didn’t make a sound, closed it again, screwed his eyes shut, and threw an arm around me.

When the emotion rose all at once from my belly and my feet to the tips of my fingers and the edges of my eyelids, I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t even know I’d been holding so much in. I wrapped my arms on him, too, and grabbed at the back of his sweatshirt, clawed my hands into fists and pressed my mouth against the side of his head. I wished I was short enough to just fit into the curve of his shoulder and scream, using him as a muffler. 

“You’re not stupid,” he finally whispered, moving his hand in long stroking motions on my back as it trembled. “You’re not worthless. Come on, give me a little credit. I’m being honest with you, is all. I suck at this. I mean, I’m really shit at this.”

“No!” I sniffled back tears that were threatening and pulled away a little to look at him. “You’re good at this. So just… that’s all I want. Just someone to believe in me. To say I’m good at being me, that I don’t have to be anything but what I end up being. And this is harder because I _don’t want to leave._ ”

It was one of the best-worded things I’d ever said, and I was just in the momentenough to know it.

He took a deep breath, face still as morose as usual. I’d learned not to let it bother me, because Levi’s body did most of the talking for him. He grabbed me into another hug, this time putting both arms around my back. “People are really good at letting you think you fucked things up, so don’t let anyone – don’t let _me_ – ever let you think that. Okay?”

I didn’t respond except to nod against his shoulder. I wondered what Hanji and Mikasa were talking about, what they thought _we_ were talking about. I wondered what I was missing at school, and how I was going to explain this to Armin. I wondered if this would be my last chance to spend an almost-rainy October morning on Levi’s balcony, knowing where I’d be sleeping come night.

“Are you mad at me?” Levi asked.

“A little.” It chilled me to know that I only wanted to hear advice on what I’d already made up my mind to do. So the most terrifying thing was knowing I had to figure it out on my own.

“Good. Think about everything I said.”

And that was it. That was actually it. I felt emptier than before when he pulled away, because I was too much of a coward to ask outright whether he _wanted_ me to leave, to move away, to go with my dad.

Levi excused himself from the conversation, claiming his feet were about to freeze off on the concrete of the landing. Before he reached the door he turned on heel, though, one pointing finger in the air, and added something. “Just remember something, okay? And this is neither here nor there but it’s something I really want you to know. Not that I think you have much trouble with this, but let’s be clear: you don’t owe your parents anything if they don’t respect you. That’s bullshit, to be taught that just because they created you and made sure you didn’t roll over in your crib and die, you owe them anything. So what I’m saying is use him. Use him if you can, if he lets you. But then don’t think you ever have to look back if he doesn’t respect you.”

 

When Mikasa asked whether I wanted to just get a ride home later, I told her no. I asked her to drop me off back at the house. We talked all the way there, but we still danced around the most important topic. When she turned down our road, I finally sighed and asked her, “So do you think you want to go?”

She shook her head and whined, like it hurt her to think about it. “I don’t know. I don’t fucking know yet. I have to think about this.”

“What if he told us we had to leave tonight, what would you do?”

She scoffed and shrugged, then slapped her hands back down on the steering wheel. “I guess I’d go, okay? I guess I’d go.”

Rolling to a pause more than a stop, she wouldn’t even turn toward the curb to drop me off. The implication was easy enough to understand. “I’m going to see some friends,” she informed me curtly, and I nodded that I understood.

Dad was inside, on the phone at the kitchen table. When he saw me enter, he gave me a dark and questioning look, leaning back in the chair slightly, probably checking me for signs of a fight. I stood expectantly in the living room and tried to summon up all my courage. Balling my fists, shuffling my feet, taking deep breaths; none of it really worked, but I was good at fooling myself. I remembered Levi’s words, his arms around me. That made it feel better, at least, as mixed as his signals had been.

He finished the phone call quickly enough. “What are you doing back home?”

I was quick at making up lies when it mattered, even though I was obviously bad at telling them. “I threw up in first period. Then I threw up again in English. Armin told the teacher, and I got sent home.”

“Are you sick?”

“No!” I’d been hoping for some sharper acuity from the man responsible for everything, but that was too much to ask. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I mumbled, “I guess I’m just really stressed out over this. I can’t even think.”

“Who dropped you off?” He asked, and I looked him right in the eye.

“A friend.”

“Well,” he sighed. He was really putting on the dad act big time. Distracted, like even for all the posturing I was still the last thing on his mind. “Go lay down, I guess.”

“No. I've been thinking. I've been thinking, and we need to talk.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eren's dad is an ass: the thrilling saga continues :( 
> 
> Also hey! There's now a [1994 FAQ](http://jeanye-west.tumblr.com/faq) on Tumblr, for all those burning questions you might have! :O
> 
> Love you guys, please enjoy. Babbies get to talk again shortly, and maybe nuzzle, and probably frick a little. Also there's a Reiner/Bertl Aside on the way, it's like early Christmas here. Thanks so much for being patient these last two weeks. I'm almost out of the woods, work is about to go back to normal again! Best readers ever. :3

He offered me a seat at the table. I said, “No thanks, I’d rather stand up for a bit.” I felt nervous, like at any moment I might need to flee, take off for the first safe place I could find. Though completely unsure of why I felt that way – dad had never been violent, at least – I knew I could run longer and faster than he’d be able to catch up with if I needed to.

In the back of my mind I kept remembering what Levi had told me. I turned it over a few times as dad spouted off some platitude I was only half-listening to, and realized I was being charitable. I was giving him a chance. I was standing there in front of dad, ready to state my case, and even though Levi’s advice rang true because I knew dad had never respected me, not since mom died and probably not before, I wanted something in my life to have a happy ending. If not happy, at least agreeable. I didn’t want another thing to cry about. I was doing that too much lately.

“So what did you want to talk about?”

I almost scoffed. Wasn’t it obvious? I bit my lip, though, and reminded myself that I had to use him if he would let me. Maybe that took swallowing a thing or two. I just tightened my jaw a bit before I launched into it. “I don’t want to go,” I said plainly, to begin.

Dad sighed before I was even finished saying it, and scooted forward in his chair like it would make his half-hearted gestures of diplomacy more believable. “I know, Eren, but—“

“—I really want to tell you why, though. Can I tell you why?” I interrupted him, yes, but this time I didn’t shout. I was as calm as I remembered ever being, because everything hinged for once on letting myself talk. I was normally so good at that. Why, when it mattered most, did I not want to say a word? Why was my heartbeat speeding up, like it _knew_ for once?

As if acknowledging my attempt at approaching things calmly, dad nodded and waved at me to go on. He looked so skeptical. I tore my eyes away from his face and focused on the kitchen window instead. “It just means a lot to me, to stay right now. Things are going right. Like… don’t be mad at me, but—“ Why was I saying that? I sort of _wanted_ him to be mad at me, actually. I wanted him to give me an excuse. I sighed. “But I’m really getting used to things without you. I’m doing good in school, I really am! I’m not getting into trouble as much as I used to, I’m getting B’s. I think I might be able to get an A by the end of the semester in English. I’m actually really good at it, and I’m glad I’m good at it, but I just think it’s all to do with being here. You know?”

He didn’t say anything, just nodded slowly and looked down at the table, rubbed his chin with his thumb. I took another breath and went on. My heartbeat had reached a point where it felt like it wasn’t even pounding anymore; all I felt was the feedback of blood rushing around in my head and neck, throbbing. Strange. “Dad, I don’t know if there’s any way we can stay, but if we can it would mean so much. I thought I’d hate this school. I thought I’d just flunk out, and I know you know I thought that because I said so. But so much has happened.” I felt myself toeing dangerous boundaries, and pushed a hand up through my hair, looking around nervously. I shored up my courage to keep going and hoped I wouldn’t say something wrong. “I made new friends and they’re really good friends.” I said something he might appreciate: “They’re good influences.  I’ve got this job, and I’m starting to realize how much I like cars, and I think I might want to start working on doing that more seriously, and… just…” I shrugged mightily and shook my head. I knew I had to say something else, to keep going, to not let him elbow in. “I really… really…”

I almost broke down. I’d thought I might be able to get through it without letting my emotions get the better of me, so I growled as I felt the tears coming on. Wiping at my eyes angrily, trying to pretend they weren’t there, I looked down at the floor and gritted my teeth.

“I thought you and Mikasa both hated it here,” dad said, softer than I’d expected.

“I did.” Sniffling, I nodded. “Until like three months ago.”

“You think it’s the school?”

I wasn’t sure whether to nod. Sure, yes, that was a good cover, yes. Let’s put that responsibility on the school. But then my stupid tendency toward honesty kicked in – honesty where it really mattered – and I shrugged again. “And I’m seeing someone. I met someone.”

Dad had no idea why I clapped my hand over my mouth and screwed my eyes shut at that, almost crying out because the stab of sudden pain and worry hurt so much. Not just for Levi, but for myself and for everything I’d come so close to revealing.

I heard dad lean back into his chair, heard the squeak of the old wooden joints as he thought about it. When I opened my eyes I kept them down, and sniffled my way to finally take the seat he’d offered. I leaned on my elbows against the table and put my hands in my hair. “I just really don’t want to leave,” I mumbled desperately.

“I’ve been on the phone a lot today,” dad started. I tensed. “I’m trying to see if I can push back my start date. Or if I can commute. Stay there for a couple of days, drive back down here and stay for a couple of days. Switch off.”

“Why do you suddenly _care_?”

He was silent for a few seconds, and in that time I realized how sick it made me, to feel like he was making a _sacrifice_ for us, doing something special by trying to be there. He was going to turn it to his favor, I just knew it. _Oh, dad’s working so hard, driving back and forth, risking so much._ It was still the same bullshit. I didn’t want to listen to what he had to say even when he said it. “It took me too long to get the nerve to fix things, and now that I’ve committed to that I can’t just go halfway. I don’t want you to resent me for trying to be a good dad.”

He didn’t say anything about loving me, loving Mikasa.

Today was exhausting.

The confusion was crippling my ability to think. I held up my palms for a moment, feeling like I’d just been surrounded by his words, put into a position where I couldn’t talk back without seeming ungrateful or contentious or selfish. Maybe he was a con man after all. Maybe he only  knew how to manipulate, and that was something I wasn’t good enough to guard against. I just knew that I was still feeling uncomfortable, and I shouldn’t have ever felt that way. Not with my dad, not with anyone I was going to allow to uproot my life, young as I was. The compassion wasn’t _right._

Again, I wanted the excuse. The excuse to run away.

Dad was still talking. “You’ve found these things here on your own, but it’s not that easy for me. It’s not easy for me to find a job here.” Probably because he’d been arrested, Mikasa said once. He had to find a place that didn’t do background checks, and that wouldn’t be able to ask around. “I’m proud of you. I really am.” He didn’t sound like it. “I’m so proud of your work at school, and your job, and I’m happy that you have a girlfriend, but—“

“No.” I said it. And this time it wasn’t before I could stop myself. This time I _wanted_ to say it. Because dad was someone I shouldn’t have needed to be careful around.

“What?” He looked annoyed that I’d cut him off.

“No, I don’t have a girlfriend. I’m gay.”

I was glad I was sitting down. My pulse started to rabbit in my throat again. The blood churned in my head so thickly that everything went dark around the edges of my vision for a moment, like I was going to pass out from the rush of being so truthful, so quickly, so recklessly.

But I didn’t think _oh no,_ I didn’t wonder what I had done, not even for a second. My tears dried up almost instantly and my nose tingled. I looked right at dad and watched the spot between his eyebrows crease before he said, again, with a completely different tone, “What?”

“You heard what I said.” My voice almost gave out, like my body knew it should be retreating even though my brain was barreling forward.

He shook his head and lifted his hands, waving them like he was trying to erect an invisible wall between us. “I just—that’s very sudden. You’ve never—do you even know what that means, Eren?”

My mouth fell open a little bit, thankfully before I could laugh out loud. Anger was fueling that laughter, though, and shock that he would say such a thing. His denial was practically tangible. “Yeah…? I do.”

“But you’re—“

“I’m sixteen, dad! You’ve barely paid attention to me since I was little, what would you know about who I am, anymore?” I almost came up out of my chair at that, leaning toward him from the corner of the table.

It was worth the fear suddenly building like a void in my stomach, to see dad looking unsure, honest, _emotional_ for once. “Eren, I know you care a lot about your friends. You’re very close to them, but that doesn’t mean—“

“Dad, that’s not it!” I did stand up at that, feeling hurt instead of frightened, putting my palms on the table that was still a safe barrier between us. I just wanted him to _do something_ , I just wanted him to take a stand. “That’s not it at all! I know what this is; I have a boyfriend!”

He shook his head. He actually shook his head, like the whole thing was just a horrible joke. Hurt left – he wasn’t worth being hurt by – and anger took over.

“If you’re doing this to get a rise out of me, to try and shock me into—“

“Dad, no! This is important, this is what I am. I mean, are you _mad_ at me?”

Shattered, that’s how he looked. I don’t know if it was just the connection of our blood, something intangible that I knew I shouldn’t have been feeling, but seeing his face like that just made the void in my stomach grow.

“Maybe you’re just confused…”

“No!” My voice trembled on laughter that was fueled by my anger, and I pointed firmly at my chest. “This is me. I’m your son and this is who I am. I have a boyfriend, I like boys, I kiss boys, I suck cock—“

I felt myself stumble back before I realized that dad’s hands had connected with my shoulders. When I realized what had happened, all in the split-second after he’d shoved me, I was already bracing myself against the chair. On instinct, my mouth curled into a smirk, because it was just _unbelievable_. Unbelievable, that someone I didn’t even _know_ could presume to have so much authority over me.

I was only marginally scared, because if he hit me what was I going to do? Tell someone? Go to the police? Go to Child Services? Be put in foster care for another two years? But that was beneath everything else. He’d given me the excuse. Now it was up to him to decide how strong he wanted that to be. I spread my arms, shrugged challengingly, kept wearing my smirk like a fucking champion.

I saw a long, slow breath fill his chest as dad stood up. I leaned forward slightly. Neither of us said a word. My smirk turned into a smile.

 _What are you going to do about it? How are you going to be a good dad after that? How are you going to guilt me into obedience after_ that _one, huh?_

I almost started laughing when he walked right past me, grabbed the keys to his Mustang off the coffee table, and slammed the door when he left. Then the laughter actually built up – disbelief, relief, fear, everything – I grabbed my stomach and started to shake, fell against the table and whined when a flash of painful anxiety ran through me. The laughter turned into coughing. The coughing turned into tears. I pounded on the table and said _fuck you_ a few times, threw my arm out through the papers dad had left there to send them fluttering everywhere. 

Eventually I had to get back up, so I did. Recovering was surprisingly easy. I walked around the house aimlessly for several minutes, almost peaceful in the numbness, ate half a bag of potato chips, then realized how exhausted I was. I thought of calling Levi, but didn’t have the energy to explain what had happened.

I grabbed my favorite photo of mom off the mantel in the living room, and took it into my room. I pulled off my shirt and pulled on Levi’s. I wore it sparingly so I wouldn’t have to wash it, so I could still lift the collar to my nose and smell him. I lay down on the bed and talked to mom’s photo a little bit. I told her I was sorry, propped the fame on my writing desk so I could look at her and slow my breathing, trick myself into thinking she was smiling at me and making me feel safe surrounded by the smell and atmosphere of home. I pretended like she would tilt her head and then shake it at me when I told her about Levi , about _me_ – not the way dad shook his head, but sweetly, like she couldn’t believe I’d been so worked up to admit what she’d have known all along, would have supported no matter what. Then I slept.

I think dad came back to pack later. I must have been asleep and he must have been quiet. When I woke up again, it was like walking out into a brain teaser version of my own house. I knew something was off but I had to figure it out on my own. First I realized that the toaster was gone, when I went to the kitchen for a glass of water and didn’t see it beneath the cabinet. He’d taken two lamps, the blender, mom’s favorite old foot locker that we’d filled with her keepsakes, and almost all the photos from the mantel. My heart ached a little bit, and I then I remembered that I’d grabbed my favorite picture of mom first. I felt so much better after that. The afghan on the couch was gone, too. I was surprised he’d left the television and the other furniture. He’d probably only taken what he could move quickly, what he could fit in his car.

I don’t know how I knew he wasn’t coming back, but I did.

So in the end it wasn’t me who ran away. It wasn’t Mikasa.

It was dad.

When Mikasa got home I pretended to be interested in the television. It was an HBO free preview weekend and I was watching Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. She sat down to watch the movie with me at first, throwing her bag on the couch between us.

Then she noticed the photos were gone. “What happened?” She asked. Then, she added, “Where’s dad?”

“Dad left,” I said, pointedly not looking at her. I crossed my arms tighter.

For a few moments, she contemplated how I’d said it. “Will he be home for dinner?”

“Mikasa, dad _left_.” Maybe I was being too harsh, but I was only starting to contemplate some of the harsher realities. He’d stop paying the mortgage. He’d stop paying for power, water, gas, and winter was coming. So I’d snapped. I looked at her and tried to seem pitiful.

“Oh… kay,” she tilted her head slightly and took in a deep breath, but remained pretty stalwart considering. “Did he say anything?”

She started to breathe quicker. I could see it. “He didn’t say much. I talked to him when you dropped me off. I told him how I felt. Then I told him I was gay—“

“Oh, Eren—“

“—he freaked out and pushed me, and then he ran out. He must have come back to pack while I was sleeping earlier.”

“ _Eren_.” Mikasa’s tone was everything and for a moment I felt like I’d made the worst mistake of my life. The way her face went lifeless, the way she looked around like she suddenly didn’t know where she was – I just wanted her to not be hurt. I wanted to say something.

All I could say was, “I had to tell him.”

“Yeah, but…” She grabbed her forehead, pushed her fingers up through her bangs. She’d tied her hair back in her bandana that day. Annie had apparently been teaching her different hairstyles, and Mikasa, who usually only left her hair down and didn’t even know how to use a curling iron, was suddenly in buns and French twists and braids more often than I would have expected. She’d seemed so happy. I couldn’t believe she would have been okay with leaving.

But there it was. She didn’t finish her remark but I knew what she meant. It was all back on her shoulders again, the responsibility of keeping us safe and the knowledge that we had no back-up.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked when she didn’t talk for a very long time after that.

“Did you think for a minute about me? Did you think I might have wanted to get out? Maybe he would have at least taken me!”

It hit me hard, and I caught my breath after feeling like she’d thrown me off my equilibrium. Blinking hard a couple of times, glad that at least I didn’t start crying, I was nonetheless relatively quiet when I responded, “Would you really have left? Would you really have left me alone?”

She wasn’t sure what to say, or at least it seemed that way. She’d brought her feet up onto the cushions and was hugging her knees, looking at me over the line of her arm.

I was reminded, almost, of the way I’d been staring at Levi earlier. After I mentioned the l-word and poured out my heart. Maybe it wasn’t fair of me to saddle Mikasa with a moral quandary right after proving to be, yet again, something she was tethered to, whether she wanted to be or not.

Mikasa wasn’t alone. I wasn’t using her. I’d never use her. She meant the world to me. Even if I lost Levi and Armin and all my other friends, my job and my future, I’d have her. That was the only thing I could think about.

So I reached over, pushing her bag out of the way. “You don’t have to answer that. That was shitty to ask.” I put my arms around her and felt her muscles shrug beneath me. She let go of her knees and leaned back into the cushions, exhaled shakily and then took in a more stable breath. Mikasa held onto me and then surged toward me, wrapped her arms around me so tight I thought I might burst.

“Of course I wouldn’t leave you,” she sighed against me. “I just wanted to chance to not worry for once, about everything. That’s all.”

“You’re the only one I have. My only family,” I managed, and finally she loosened her arms enough to let me breathe.

“Yeah, same here,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I talked out of my ass and I’m sorry dad’s a piece of shit. But I love you. I love you no matter what you tell me or who you are.”

“I love you, too.” Both of us sounded odd when we said it, like buried in the words was a question of whether we were ready, and an answer that we had no more time to decide. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.

We sat together on the couch until the movie was over, just being close and crying and being angry at dad, laughing about memories, and talking until it got uncomfortable to talk.

In one way, I guess it was exhilarating. “I guess I’ll have to get a job,” Mikasa said.

“Yeah. I’ll ask for more hours at mine.”

“I’m going to see about graduating early, going to work full time. I’m sure the school will be glad to get rid of me.” She stood up and stretched, chuckling in an attempt to make light. “I mean, I turn 18 really soon anyway. Since that’s the case… shit… we’ll just figure it out.”

“Oh, yeah.” Her birthday was December 2nd.

She needed to eat, and I needed to tell Armin. In the car, I fished Levi’s tape out of the glove compartment and popped it back in, forgetting which song I’d left it on. The tape started playing in the middle of the Violent Femmes’ “American Music”, and as I drove to Armin’s I sang along and drummed on the steering wheel. It was almost worrying, how strangely free I felt, even knowing that I was one confession or encounter away from some well-meaning person trying to step in and fix my family, to treat me like a charity case. Really, my family didn’t need fixing at all. My real family, that is. Mikasa and me. We were actually okay. It was just another thing to get used to, but we were skilled at adapting. We trusted each other to work it out, to stay around.

By eight o’clock I’d told Armin and I’d also told his grandfather, who assured me that, if push came to shove, we were always welcome under their roof. The Arlert house was in disrepair, of course, and the vacant bedroom was full to the brim with random family things and antiques, but I knew something could be done. Armin and I could share a bedroom, if it came down to it, and Mr. Arlert was even selfless enough to offer to sleep on the couch. Taken aback by the generosity, I told him that wouldn’t be necessary. On my way out the door, Armin hugged me even though we’d never been very big on hugging, and told me that if I even thought about leaving him, he’d find a way to let me stay. “I’ll hide you in our basement if I have to,” he added. I laughed and told him his basement was terrifying, but thanks for the thought.

When I got home at ten o’clock, Jean called me. He didn’t often call, and he liked talking to me on the phone only marginally more than he liked doing so in person, so I guess that made it easier. Armin must have told him what was going on. “Hey.” He kept it short. “We’re gonna talk about this. I might be able to help you guys out. I’m sorry about the bullshit with your dad, but it’s good that you’re staying.”

Mikasa took the phone after I hung up, and told me she had a friend I hadn’t met who was going to try and get her a job. When I asked her what the job was, she almost smiled, shrugged, and said she didn’t want to jinx it, but she’d let me know. She took the phone off the wall, ran the cord down the hall, and shut it inside of her room for privacy. When she emerged about an hour later, she advised me that she was going to take dad’s bedroom if I didn’t want it. If I did want it, she said, we could fight for it. I didn’t want it. I liked my tiny, messy room.

Exhilarating, and terrifying at the same time. I had no idea how to pay bills. I didn’t know what I was going to do about insurance on my new car, if I could still afford payments on it with everything else. Insurance on the station wagon, then. I didn’t even have a bank account, yet; I’d been cashing my paychecks and stuffing the money into a box. Mikasa and I talked about it, and we agreed that we wouldn’t consider dad completely out of our lives until he stopped paying the bills. When that happened, then we would act in earnest. Until then, contingencies were being formed.

Before things got too somber again, even though a veil of serious consideration was hanging over everything (was that adulthood, horning its way in already?), Mikasa said, “Go see your boyfriend,” and then, “Goodnight.”

On the way to the Bent Ducat, I hoped Hanji would let me have a beer for once. If not, I wanted Levi to pour me a glass of whiskey back at his place. I felt like I _deserved_ a drink.      

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, my URL at Tumblr has changed. I a now wangs-of-freedom, so donut be confused. I’ll work on updating all the 1994-related links shortly, such as the asides etc (and maybe just finally upload them to AO3? Idek)
> 
> Also, something of note for this chapter: mental health treatment and psychiatry were still relatively young in the early 90’s. I have no idea what Levi’s exact diagnosis is in the story, because that’s not the focus. Probably, he’s been saddled with everything from manic-depressive to histrionic to obsessive-compulsive, but nothing really lands because even Levi has no idea what’s the truth about himself. He’s just now starting to work with it, but my point is: people are complex and mental health is complex and sometimes mental health is an unstoppable freight train if not handled properly. So what’s making Levi change? Responsibility, maybe. Emotional responsibility, probably. Take that with a grain of salt.

Dealing with everything in the middle of the club felt weird at first, but after Nana supplied me with a shot of tequila under Hanji’s nose, I started to loosen up just enough. I made it to the Bent Ducat half a song into Levi’s show, and elected to stand alongside the front counter with Hanji, watching. It calmed my nerves to stand apart, to not feel like I was just part of a scene playing itself out. “Alone” was still in the set, and that’s where I walked in. Between spectating and getting caught up in the way Tirne played to the crowd just the same whether she knew I was in the audience or not, I filled Hanji in on what was happening. She asked whether Mikasa was okay. I said yes. She asked me if I was sure. I just sighed. “Neither of us are really 100% right now.”

“Well, you know where to find us. And my offer still stands,” she said.

Hanji’s co-owner, Moblit (a nice enough guy, if a little worked-up about something all the time) came to relieve her of her station. He didn’t seem to care about my age, either, though I knew the only stipulation about that was making sure I didn’t drink. Hanji walked me out to the floor as Tirne worked her way through the second of two Gloria Estefan songs. I asked Levi once, why he loved her so much. “Because she’s inspiring and beautiful, and because my hips move too much for most other standard divas. And she’s my height.”

Tirne caught my eye near the end of the song, and bowed her head in just the right way to acknowledge my presence.  

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Nana, who still really only knew me via Levi and Hanji, was glued to the chair next to mine. She usually stood in support on the side stage during Tirne’s shows, but had scurried to the floor to find me.

“I promise, I am,” I half-chuckled, not wanting all the attention.

“Okay…” She started, obviously only half convinced. “Let me know if things change. My daddy didn’t find out until I was 23, and he almost pulled a rifle down during Thanksgiving dinner, so trust me, you can bend my ear if you want.”

She hugged me. She sounded a lot more distraught than I did, even if she was cooing her words. I’d had time to think about it, though. And whether it had been her intention, Nana had only put it into perspective. It could have been much worse.

When Levi emerged from the dressing room once the lights on the stage had dimmed, well after Nana slipped me a shot and made me promise never to tell Hanji, I was almost disappointed to see that he had changed.

“Why did you change?” I asked when the small crowd around the table dispersed to allow us some time to talk.

He glared at me, pointedly but still playfully, and put a hand through his hair. It was, as it usually was after a show, mussed by his wig cap and just unruly enough to look intentionally so. “This seemed better for the conversation we’ll be having.” He seemed fidgety without a cigarette in his hand, so I reached under the table and put my fingers around his. Immediately, it seemed to calm him a little, but his smirk said that he knew what I was doing. “So… I’m assuming things happened.”

I told him the short of it. Levi leaned closer as I relived the story, as it became more private, as I threw in more personal consideration than I had with Hanji or Nana. Our shoulders touched and we were both leaning with our arms crossed on the table, while Levi nodded occasionally at my words or interjected with a nondescript grunt.

He put his arm around me, and just sat there with his head leaned into my shoulder. “This music isn’t what we need to be hearing right now,” he informed me eventually, and I couldn’t help agreeing with a nod. Something about the upbeat throb of dance music wasn’t doing much to help me think about things. “Let’s get out of here.”

We slipped out and didn’t really say goodbye to anyone. Levi led me by the hand into the parking lot and opened his passenger door for me. I wanted to make some joke about him being a gentleman when he wanted, but it wasn’t the right time. I let him have the moment, and just thanked him as I slid inside. He’d put a new air freshener in his car and the whole thing smelled like leather, which was perfect for the fall and perfect for his habitat.

“See what happens when you’re brave?” Levi said, backing out of his spot. “People shit all over you when you’re brave, or they feel sorry for you because of the people who shit on you. Not enough people really thank you, but that’s what you need. Thanks. Thanks for being someone who doesn’t let circumstance call him out.”

I had to think about his phrasing for a moment. I’d heard things from Levi, of course. More details about his past, about his estrangement from his parents. They kicked him out for being a drug addict. They changed the locks because they asked around town to try and find him, and in the process found out he was gay, heard rumors that he was prostituting himself, heard worse than that. Levi never actually got to have the conversation with his parents. He still maintained that they were good people, in the same breath that he maintained he’d never talk to them again.

I always figured it was because he wanted them to remain okay in his memories. Being angry at him for drugs, that was easy to excuse. Never wanting to see him again because of who he had sex with; that was something Levi never wanted to face. Just like I never wanted to see my dad again.

I asked him as much, finally. Wherever we were driving, although I had my suspicions, I filled up the time by asking him timidly about his reasons for never saying anything.

“I don’t know,” he said, in that flip way that assured me he did know, but he wasn’t ready to admit it. “I was so _good_ , growing up. Even when I got all weird before I hit puberty – stealing shit and vandalizing shit and jumping off the roof to see if I’d survive”—he had, with only a sprained ankle—“there was always some explanation they had. When my mom had me put on lithium I was like _all right, this is going to do it, this is gonna fix me. Mom loves me and she’s going to fix me_ , but it was all just another way to control me because I was still that _good kid_. They didn’t want to address the possibility that maybe they had a complex kid, they just wanted that good kid back. So they started throwing drugs at me, and never talking to me about it, taking me to Disney World and buying me things I wanted, but not noticing when I started selling my pills in middle school so I could get better drugs. I lied to shrinks so I could get harder stuff that sold for more. It all went downhill from there. Talking to them about being gay? They didn’t want to talk to me about things that were actually _wrong_ with me, why would they want to talk to me about something I actually felt okay with? They’d think it was another symptom. Besides, I thought I was lucky. Lucky that I had a good life. Why jeopardize that with truth, after all they forgave me for?”

Levi was honest with me about things that were wrong with him, at least. He’d stay up for days, sometimes. He got quietly obsessive about his projects – re-organizing his kitchen or cleaning a room top to bottom, or even just sewing a dress – and sometimes wouldn’t talk to me at all when I was over. He’d apologize ahead of time, actually, let me know that he was “feeling weird,” but I didn’t see a big change. His depression hit hard when it did hit, but I hadn’t seen it hit yet. He prepared me, at least. It was okay, I told him. I just wanted to know. When he needed to, he took pills that were supposed to be for seizures, and he got them from someone who worked at the club. He showed me where he kept them, so I could keep an eye on them in case he started acting strange.

A lot of things, words, desperate diagnoses had been thrown at him before he turned 15 and his parents stopped caring whether he went to psychiatrists. “When I get on my feet, like actually on my feet,” he swore to me one night just a week or two ago, “I’m going to go back to a doctor and I’m actually going to work with someone and we’ll figure out what’s really up with my head.” I told him he didn’t have to. He said he wanted to. “If there isn’t anything up with me, then all the better.”

But that wasn’t what Levi wanted to talk about. “The way you went about it with your dad was perfect. You explained what was right with life. You told him you were fucking _happy,_ so the reaction he had, that bullshit he pulled? That’s 100% on him. That’s all his fucking inability to get over his prejudice. Homophobic fuck.”

He didn’t apologize for calling my dad that, and I was glad he didn’t.

The radio was on. He liked to play the radio lately, trying to expand his own musical horizons beyond the stuff he’d grown up on, the albums he loved. It was the alternative rock station we both enjoyed. They were playing Frente! and I almost didn’t want to interrupt. “You know…” I fidgeted a little and shrugged. “For everything you say about being fucked up and stuff, you give really good advice. I’ve never met anyone who’s as real as you. Selfless, I guess.”

Levi sort of chuckled, and turned the wheel slowly. “Not going to argue, since that’s your opinion, but… thanks?” Sure enough, the car edged off the road and onto the gravel shoulder for the old abandoned field where we’d had our first kiss. “Well, you can chalk that up to not being sure if I even had a self, for a long time. Everything in between Tirne sort of felt like _existing_ for a while, so I just tried to watch other people so I could find out what to do. Turns out that watching people, listening, is the best way to realize a lot of truth. Nah, that sounds conceited. I suck, I’m sorry. Please don’t idolize me or anything, I’m not worth that.”

I let him say it, and half-smiled. I didn’t tell him not to self-deprecate. He had the biggest ego under the sun. He just liked to deflect whenever he wanted the conversation to actually be about something else. He was right, of course. About not idolizing him and also about just watching people. I’d already been observing him a lot. And I was seeing a lot of truth, just in that. Maybe it was naïve truth, because of how much I had yet to see, but I liked it. With people like Jean and Mikasa, too, it was helping. To stop reacting for a minute and take in someone else. It was cool.

But then I thought about dad again.

“I keep feeling it, over and over. His hands shoving me. Which is weird because I didn’t even know it was happening when it did.” I rolled my shoulders out uncomfortably and scowled. Levi slowed the car to a stop and put it in park.

He turned halfway and looked at me, blinked slowly, nodded. “I know what you mean.”

That in particular was a chilling moment of empathy. I could practically feel him understanding me, like it was a tangible force that crept into my veins.

For everything he’d already told me, there were things I still wasn’t ready to ask him about.

 “Are you cold?” He asked me.

“Not really.”

It was milder outside than it was yesterday. Just a bit less warmer than it had been during the hayride.

“You wanna get on the hood?” He leaned forward and stared up at the sky through the windshield, grimacing to get the best look. “Looks pretty clear out. Stars and shit.”

“Okay.”

Levi turned the radio up and left the doors open. The Pretenders, “Middle of the Road” had me chuckling when he slid in next to me. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, just… I thought this was a new song when I first heard it on the radio, because it was on this station. I went to the mall and tried to buy this album and then I found out pretty much everything by the Pretenders was during the 80’s. I don’t know, it’s just funny to me.”

“Didn’t you do the same thing with Talking Heads?” He shifted, took one hand out of his pocket and put in into mine, lacing our fingers inside the corduroy pocket of my Billabong jacket.

“ _Yes,_ ” I scoffed, and we laughed again.

“Give me a kiss, you idiot.” He smirked and shook his head, and we kissed.

“Okay, so I’m just going to say it. I feel somewhat responsible for this whole thing but that might be my self-centered asshole mode coming out to play.”

“Responsible? For what?”

“For… I don’t know how to put it… for your _sexual awakening,_ I guess.” He said it so sarcastically that I had to laugh when he did. “Fuck it, that’s such a dick thing to assume.”

“It actually _is_ a dick thing, though. Literally it’s about dicks.”

He used his opposite arm to shove me, and I cackled. “Dick,” he growled.

“Seriously, though! No, I mean… you helped? But the thing is, I’ve been wondering for a while now. Like when Armin came out to me I was immediately like _oh, great, no big deal_. That wasn’t totally because I supported him blindly. It was almost relief, I guess? Because I had my share of confusion, since I started masturbating.”

Levi guffawed at that, and it produced a nearly uncomfortable groan from me. It had seemed more genuine than saying _since puberty_. Things were fine in the wide open daylight world, until I got my hands around my dick and started to realize that thinking of other dudes was the only thing that got me off, sometimes.

“But meeting you was like… I guess you were the first guy who was really my sort of attractive? And I had no idea what my type was, maybe?”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, the way you look, like your face and stuff? Your body? It hit me like a ton of bricks but I was conditioned to be all _oh god, a_ goth _, ugh stay away from me_.”

“Are you shitting me? For real?” He sat up halfway, crying out like that was a revelation that amused the hell out of him.

I covered my face with my hands. “Yes! That’s just not my crowd! But then, like, you literally pulled it out of me, that night we drove to the park and you were like _make out with me_. I wasn’t ready for that because even though I was sort of thinking _yeah I think you’re really pretty_ , I’d never had… this is going to sound weird… _permission_ to think another guy was pretty before.”

Levi’s amusement subsided politely, and he nodded before he fell back down to fit his shoulder against mine. “I get that. But I’m not totally a goth, you know. I’ve been growing out of that, little by little. The clothes, though. I love the clothes.”

“I know, I know. But yeah, no. Don’t feel responsible in a bad way, feel responsible in a good way.”

“Ah, okay. Can do. What happened was still bullshit.” He put his hand back in my pocket and I squeezed it.

“What happened was still a _lot_ of bullshit. We’ll get through it.”

“We all will.”

“That’s what I meant. Together.”

Levi turned his head toward mine, pulled at my chin with his other hand, and kissed me. A breeze blew through the field that sent a chill down my back, so I arched against him and we cuddled together for warmth and companionship.

We made out through the next song, kissing deeply and keeping our hands beneath our jackets, pressing our chests and curling our legs together with tensing stretches brought on by the chilliness. The hood beneath us was warm, at least. Levi’s lips were hot, at least.

He broke away from the kiss and breathed out quickly as one song stopped playing and another began. I knew the song; the night DJ played it sometimes and I liked it. I had no idea who sang it or what it was called, but I ventured to guess it was something like “Look Up to the Sky” because the lyrics certainly repeated that phrase enough.

“I love this song,” he said.

“It’s good.”

The first line of the first verse was already over, and I was so caught up in just holding Levi there and looking at him, feeding off of his warmth, that I was dumbstruck when I noticed that his lips were moving along with the next words.

He started to sing softly.

_“I’d believe forever was a lonely place to wait_

_I can see inside your eyes_

_Mirrors soaking up the lies_

_I believe, like I believe_

_Miracles and destiny you make your own reality_

_I knew when I look up to the sky…”_

At one point he closed his eyes. Then, he opened them again, but didn’t really focus on my face until the second verse. He sang the entire song and kissed me gently during the breaks. I just stayed silent, stunned, breathed and swallowed as quietly as possible. I kept my leg moving gently on his, because I couldn’t possibly stop feeling him. I squeezed Levi’s waist with just my fingertips, assuring him that I was listening, that I loved it. He faded out on the final “ _Ba da bop ba…”_ and quickly glanced down, his eyes fluttering shut like he didn’t want to look at me all of a sudden.

“That was beautiful,” I whispered, and moved my hand up to his hair. Finding out that Levi was a great singer was not what I had planned for the evening, but it was definitely a welcome distraction from my troubles.

“That song’s off the _Kalifornia_ soundtrack. I listen to it and lay down on my bed sometimes. Just zone out, look at the ceiling fan, get quiet; for some reason that song really helps me.”

“I wish we could play it again. Or I want you to just sing it again.”

Levi pushed his nose into my hair and breathed in, then kissed the line of my jaw. “I don’t sing for just anyone, you know.”

“Yeah,” I sighed.

Our hands continued to roam. Our lips moved with slow, unruly kisses and Levi pushed his cold fingers beneath my shirt. He opened his mouth on mine for every gasp, smirking or chuckling softly at me until I grabbed at his ass and he started letting out the same unbidden little reactions.

It felt different. Maybe it was being out under the stars, maybe it was the cold, or maybe it was that finally we’d crossed a comfortable line. All I wanted was to be there; I didn’t care what we were doing. I didn’t _have to have him_ , in any way. I wasn’t overwhelmed by a _need_ for anything other than Levi’s presence. He felt safe, like a reassurance that everything would be okay.

Still, his hand maneuvered between our bodies and the tight heat of our embrace. While I gasped he pulled my belt apart and reached inside my pants only far enough to wrap his fingers around my cock and start jerking me off. Kissing my neck as I dug my fingers into his shoulders to pull him closer, Levi barely said a word until I came all over my stomach and into his hand.

He only suffered the dirty details under exacting circumstances. Immediately, Levi slid off the hood long enough to find some napkins in his glove box, and glanced around the area with an adorably suspicious glint in his eyes before he pulled me over and kissed the spots he cleaned up for me. All the while, I laughed.

When he pulled my hand up to kiss it, his eyelashes tickled the top of my palm. Levi asked me to take him home. To my place, to my bed. To Mikasa. Because she needed her brother.

“Our walls are really thin,” I started, doing up my pants. “I don’t think—“

“We’re not going there to fuck. I’m going there to make sure you’re safe tonight.”

I picked up the station wagon and Levi picked up a pizza before we met at the house. The driveway was packed to the point that it looked like a party was going on. Annie was over, it turned out. I’d actually never been so happy to see her. She was a friend. For every friend I reminded myself that I had, or Mikasa had, another fraying thread in my heart stitched itself back up.

I showered because I felt gross from the events of the day, and when I returned I found the Trivial Pursuit board set up in the living room. I lost easily, but we did everything to make the experience as hilarious as possible. It turned out that Annie and Levi were well matched in both trivia and their need to prove their intelligence, so the game was taken very seriously.

After Annie won, Levi excused himself to use the bathroom. He made it a point to tell me, and by proxy tell everyone, that he managed not to piss on the shower curtain in the process. There was no way out of explaining that story to the entire group, then.

“Gross,” Annie mentioned, tipping back a beer from the six-pack she’d brought over. “Guys are gross.”

“I’m not gross,” Levi said, a barb of defensiveness in his voice.

“Well, penises are gross.”

“You’re a lesbian, then?” Levi asked. _Thank god someone asked it._

She shrugged. “Guys are cute and all, good to make out with, but keep your freakin’ pants on. I’ll eat a pussy, though. They’re pretty. They make sense”

I almost choked on my beer. Mikasa wasn’t reacting, exactly. I tried not to think about it, just the same as she was likely trying not to think about my morning after with Levi.

“We’re practically opposites,” Levi said blithely, and laughed. “Dicks are majestic and beautiful. Dicks make me believe there is a god. Meanwhile, vaginas...” He just made a gesture and a sour face, like the thought of female genitalia didn’t make sense to him at all.

“Tits, though,” Mikasa threw in suddenly.

“Yeah, tits,” Annie nodded.

Levi agreed emphatically. “God, yes, tits are great.”

“I’m all for some tits,” I said, assuming it was my turn.

We finished the pizza and I introduced Levi to my room with just enough trepidation that he noticed. He walked to the bed, sat down, and bounced on it. He glanced at my nightstand.

“Is that your mom?”

I’d almost forgotten the photograph there. “Yeah,” I said breezily.

“May I…?” Levi was leaning toward it, and I nodded that yes, by all means, he could pick it up.

A gentle smile crossed his face as he studied the picture. “I thought so.”

“What?”

“You look like her.”

“That’s funny, I always grew up being told I looked like dad.”

“Nah, you look like her.” I sat down next to him and breathed in deeply as Levi’s fingers traced the outline of my mother’s face. “Your chin, your mouth. Your eyes look like hers, definitely.” He looked over at me and I turned my lips together sheepishly.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

He kissed me and placed the photo back in its place. “She’s beautiful and that runs in the family.”

I liked that he didn’t use the past tense when referring to her.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said, reaching up to stretch his arms out as he did.

We weren’t made of stone. In the pitch dark of my bedroom, I felt Levi kissing down my back and reached over only to turn mom’s photo around. Levi laughed at me for that. Then he advised me to muffle myself in the pillow while he turned me over, stole beneath the covers, licked deep inside my ass and massaged my prostate until I came again with a shuddering gasp.

“You—“ I turned to look at him; I could barely see him in the dark, but was able to make out the fact that his hair was hanging in messy half-waves on his forehead.

“Go clean up.” He cut me off and hooked my bottom lip with his thumb. “Then me. Then sleep.”

I barely articulated my rebuttal, but he figured it out. My hands on his chest were a dead giveaway, too. I wanted him to come. He’d given me too much for one night, and whether or not he meant it that way, I couldn’t just—“I can’t just—“

“Do you work tomorrow?”

Dazed, thrown off, I shook my head.

“Okay, then we’re going to sleep in tomorrow and you’re going to let me take you to the movies, and then I’ll let you have your fill of doing whatever you’re obviously dying to do to me in a bed where I _can_ scream.”

He gave me a moment or two for reaction.

“Don’t think you owe me all of this for listening to everything you told me tonight. About yourself.”

I said it while it was dark, while we were tired, because I didn’t want him to worry about showing me a reaction in the light. He just waited on another word, and when I didn’t give it, he poked my nose with a little noise. “Go clean up, kid.”

I did as I was told. In the chilly darkness we finally wrapped up together in my quilt, Levi as my big spoon.

“Your whole house smells like you,” he said, and I didn’t ask him to confirm that it was a good thing. I just took it for what it was.

I sighed shakily. “Sing to me again?”

He whisper-warbled our song again as I fell asleep from ten thousand kinds of exhaustion, with assurance that I’d be sleeping in – with him – come morning.

  

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just porn. Literally just some Levi/Eren hot sexytimes because we all need a break from all the heaviness I think. Not just in this fic but in SnK itself. Soo much heaviness. Smut now. 
> 
> When I changed my URL at Tumblr I understand that links I posted on AO3 to the 1994 Aside Fics broke. Fear not! Everything remains correct on [The 1994 FAQ](http://wangs-of-freedom.tumblr.com/faq) page! 
> 
> Also, [do you want a Trost Titans t-shirt?](http://thebentducat.spreadshirt.com/trost-high-C148610) How about a [Bent Ducat hoodie?](http://thebentducat.spreadshirt.com/the-bent-ducat-C148626) You can potentially get those things now, because I opened a [1994 Store](http://thebentducat.spreadshirt.com) with a few things I'm designing for the fic. Just in case anyone wants something, because I thought "why not?" and also because I make a couple of bucks if you buy one and it would be a cool way to show your support! More designs coming :3
> 
> That said, enjoy the smut.

I thought about cause and effect while I was in Levi’s shower the next day, after we got back from the movies. He asked me to take one. He said I’d feel better if I took a shower, and I sort of disagreed. Then he said he wasn’t going to fuck me until I did, and that got me moving. Then he added that I looked like I felt gross, that he’d noticed when I probably thought he wasn’t looking. It was true, so I asked him which towel I should use and headed for the bathroom.

When I came out of the bathroom, hair wet, skin clean, feeling undoubtedly better, I told him about it. “I was thinking. If dad hadn’t left earlier this year, for so long, then maybe the battery in the station wagon would have been replaced sooner, and maybe Mikasa wouldn’t have had to drive us both to school, and the Buick might not have broken down, and we wouldn’t have met Jean and gone to his party. Maybe Mikasa wouldn’t have spent the night and Armin might not have gotten the courage to flirt the next morning. And then Armin might not have gotten a boyfriend, and I wouldn’t have heard about all of that from him, and never asked you…”

Levi started to rub my back gently, sitting cross-legged nearer to the center of his bed. He knew I wasn’t finished, even if I let that particular statement drop off. My voice got softer. “And then if you hadn’t met Erwin, and gotten arrested after what happened that one night, and if all of that hadn’t happened, then I might not have ever thought about so many things because I think it was thinking about you with another man that really pushed me over the edge of wondering about myself. I think it was the first thing that did it in a real life way, thinking about you and Erwin, about you and anyone.”

I turned and looked at him over my shoulder, finally. He had a strange look on his face, not quite expressionless but definitely detached to a certain extent. “Butterfly wings,” he murmured.

“What?”

He pulled his hand away from my back and scratched the short hair at the back of his head. “It’s this saying: a butterfly flaps its wings in South America and causes a hurricane, something like that. It’s about chain reactions, events caused or influenced by other events. I guess it’s a more cynical way to say that everything happens for a reason.”

I nodded. “Butterfly wings, yeah.”

“Are you okay?” He put his hand on my shoulder.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Good.” He clapped his palm more resolutely on my shoulder, then. “Because I need to go wash up, too.”

“No,” I urged him, and when he tried to crawl over me I held onto his sweatshirt. Levi paused and glanced down. “I don’t want to wait.”

“Well, neither do I, but—“

“I don’t care.”

I was pulling at his arm, then, stronger than I probably meant to. I latched my other hand onto the back of his head and pulled him into a kiss, let him fall haphazardly against my lap. He was breathing faster.

“I’m dirty,” he muttered against my face.

“I know,” I tried to suppress a smile but it crept over me anyway. I licked his lips quickly before dipping back in for another kiss. Mischievously, I added, “You’re always dirty.”

Levi ignited in a way I didn’t expect, then. He surged against me as he righted himself in my naked lap and pulled his legs in to straddle it. “Don’t say shit like that if you can’t back it up, kid.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, reaching up to unhook the collar from his neck. I tossed it on the floor and kissed his neck on the balmy spot that had been beneath it. I kind of liked the taste of his sweaty skin, when I wanted him so badly. It reminded me that it was _him_.

He panted once and rolled his body as he pulled his shirt off. My hands wrapped just beneath his ribcage while his arms were over his head. “Talk to me like that. More.”

My thumbs crept up and I flicked at his nipples clumsily while we kissed. Levi whined into me so I tightened my grip on him, just to test it. Sure enough, he made an even more intense sound of approval. “What, like, telling you that you’re dirty? That was a joke.”

“Eren, you fucking shit, I’m telling you I like it.” He wrapped his arms around me and I was once again startled by how strong he was, despite his stature.

It didn’t really make sense, still. “Oh… okay.”

With a heavy sigh, Levi tightened his fingers in my hair. After a moment or two of awkwardness he said, “It’s all right, I don’t actually expect you to know how to talk dirty to me. You just got started and that’s some next level shit, so--”

I interrupted him with the dirtiest thing I could think of at that particular moment. It felt silly, and a rush of insecurity boiled up even as I said it. “I want you to put your cock inside of me right now.”

He paused. He breathed out hard and moved his hands down my back, baring his nails against the skin. His hips rolled in their place. I could feel him getting hard. “Do you, now?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why do you want that?” He whispered against my ear.

I closed my eyes because I knew I was getting embarrassed and was afraid that looking directly at Levi might throw me off and destroy my forward momentum. “I want you to fuck me.”

With another happy, but definitely sexy, sound, Levi started to push me back onto the bed. We shifted a little as he asked again, “Why do you want that?”

“What?” My eyes opened, and he kissed me immediately. I was lying on his mattress and he was situated over me. A familiar, wonderful position. I lifted a hand and without hesitation slid it down to his crotch and rolled my palm there. Levi broke our kiss with a growling breath. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You just wanna get fucked? Just anyone would do, then?”

“What? No!”

He ran his hand over my forehead and up into my hair, twisting it slightly in his fingers.  I winced but couldn’t help being turned on by his face, by his half-smile and heavy-lidded expression that radiated pure sex. “I’m coaching you, moron.” He kissed me as my fingers fumbled trying to break into his pants. “You wanna hear how to talk dirty? Like if you asked me the same thing?”

I nodded breathlessly under him.

Levi drew up onto his knees and straightened his back, reached into his pants and pulled out his cock. He licked his palm, gave it two quick strokes, and said, “I want you right now because I need your cock, because it feels so fucking good when you’re inside me.”

I couldn’t say a thing, at that. I looked from Levi’s face, to his dick, and back to his face. Finally I let go of the breath I’d been holding. “God. I can’t talk like--”

He leaned in close and nuzzled my face, kissed me again. “Then suck my dirty cock and get me ready for your sweet little ass, okay?”

I whimpered and hesitated only a moment before I pushed at Levi’s hip and bucked to the side, rolling him over. It had been at least a week since we’d actually fucked, and I’d been holding so much stress inside that I wasn’t about to hesitate for anything. I kissed down his chest hungrily and drew back like a cat to pull his pants off. Disorienting, just a little, knowing that I was in a place and a position where everything was my domain. He could still stop me, of course, but I was free to explore to the limits he would let me. Because Levi wanted me. Because Levi _liked_ me and wanted me to take action.

Taking action felt amazing, especially with his body looking and feeling the way it did. He hissed and arched his back, crying out with throaty _ah_ ’s and _mmm_ ’s while I held his cock up and put my mouth on his balls, kissing them gently and then sucking them, letting the smell of him overtake me, proving to him that I didn’t give one hot damn how sweaty or dirty he was. His legs lifted around me and both of his hands combed through my hair.

Levi growled excitedly when I finally swiped at the tip of his cock with my tongue and drew it between my lips. “You’re so good,” his voice vibrated so deeply that I almost couldn’t make out what he’d told me. When it finally made sense I just spread my fingers around the base of his cock, palm moving on his balls while I sucked him deeper. “You’re the best.”

And that did it. _It_ wasn’t something explosive or tangible, of course, but it was also something I’d never expected. No longer being good enough. No longer just being Levi’s lover, but being his superlative. I gasped and had to draw away from a moment, taking the opportunity to drag my teeth gently over the head of his cock and make him whimper. Maybe he’d said it in a moment of passion. Maybe it was just as much a matter of course as all that dirty talk he was trying to coax me into. Levi just didn’t seem that way, was all. He said things the way he felt them, even when the words weren’t perfect. I kissed his length again, licked up the underside, was wondering how I could possibly tell him how much I’d appreciated that without seeming like an overly sentimental doofus when I felt something gently hit my shoulder and bounce aside.

Levi was already directing me when I blinked and looked around for what it had been. I saw the half-empty bottle of Astroglide on the sheets next to me. “Touch yourself.”

I let a generous drizzle of lube fall against my fingers and pool in my hand before I started to shift, maybe to sit back on my haunches or get on my back, but Levi tutted at me and I stopped. “No, keep going. Keep sucking my dick, and finger your ass.”

I gulped, unsure of myself, and nodded with a deep breath. Resituated between Levi’s wide open legs, I leaned down on one elbow and used my tongue to help guide his cock haphazardly into my mouth again. I arched my back and bent low, snaking my hand back to reach my ass.

“Does that feel good?” Levi asked after a minute or two, rubbing my hair almost too intensely between his fingers while I moaned around him, not concentrating nearly as much on the movement of my mouth as I was on my fingers as they plunged in and out as quickly and deeply as I could manage. “Is this how you do it at home when I’m not there?”

It was impossible to not show a reaction to his voice in that tone. Kind of sweet and breathy and baiting at the same time. I spread my fingers and stretched against the firm muscles of my asshole, kept from clenching back on them when I thought about how good it would feel to have his cock inside me again. “God!” I gasped, pulling off his cock and letting it rest against my cheek while I pushed in deep again. “Uh-huh…”

“I’m almost content just to watch you like this, but…”

When I heard him say that, I let out a heady sigh of relief and twisted up from my position, pulling my sticky fingers out, moving to turn onto my back.

Levi caught me by the arm and chuckled. “Where do you think you’re going, kid? This is your show.”

“Wait… but…”

Levi shook his head and I wanted to eat the sexy little smile right off his face. “Ride me,” he said.

Maybe it was supposed to be a well-timed erotic moment that would throw me into sexual berkerker mode, but maybe Levi forgot how I was.

“Oh, wow. No,” was my immediate reaction.

“What?” He came up onto his elbows a little, genuinely laughing at my hesitation.

“I am totally going to embarrass myself if I try to do that, this is not going to be fun for you.”

“What are you _talking_ about? Ride my cock, there’s no way to do it wrong.”

“I… once I’m on there I don’t know if I can stay on.” I was legitimately anxious about it. In theory, it seemed so right. And there was his dick, so hard and thick and hot, just waiting for me…

Levi sighed, in a way I almost found consoling. He grunted as he sat up, and put his hands on my waist. He was still smirking. “Eren. You sexy little idiot with your hot little sexy ass, when you were a kid did you ever get those toys that came in pieces and snapped together? You know how when you got the cowboy toys he’d always have a hole between his bow legs and the horse would have a big peg right in the middle of the saddle?”

My childhood was shoving its fingers in its ears and trying not to make the connections Levi was implying. Nonetheless, I nodded, because Levi’s fingers were floating down the line of my stomach and fluttering against my pubic hair.   

“The cowboy never came out of the saddle,” he said, probably more sensually that he should have been saying a thing like that, and looked at me heavily. “Because the cowboy had a shaft up his ass.”

“Wow. Um…” I licked my lips and started to reply, tried to be witty, but Levi kissed me. He chuckled against me more brightly than he usually did, and rubbed his hands up and down my sides.

“Just calm down and get on my dick, I promise you’re not going to have any more worries when you feel how good it is like this.”

He laid back and tucked a pillow under his neck, put on a condom and topped his cock gingerly with lube like it was a hot fudge sundae. He told me not to feel embarrassed at all. Levi said I looked hot as fuck as I straddled him at the waist and glanced back over my shoulder. I took his cock in my hand and bent awkwardly. “Just point it, oh my god, don’t twist it off,” he said, and I could hear that he was barely suppressing laughter.

“Don’t laugh at me,” I said, but I was laughing as well. Something about the lack of pretense in the whole scene made me feel even sexier, giving in to how funny it all was. “Shut up.”

I held my breath and started to lower myself, steady by the barest power in my thigh muscles as I felt the head of his cock slipping into me. We stopped laughing all at once. Levi moaned and I caught my breath sharply; he was so slick and I was so ready for him that I descended all at once. Also, I had no control of myself after a certain sexual point. “God!” I cried.

“Yeah,” Levi said with purposefully cruel amusement. “You like that, don’t you?”

I sort of did. I got used to being so full, so suddenly, far more quickly than I got used to the feeling of being in charge of everything, though. Once I had my bearings, I panted a couple of times and swiveled my hips. I figured that I needed to give him a sign of pleasure at some point, and I should have figured letting his cock stir inside of me would do the trick. “Mmmnnn…” I whined, and flattened my palms on his tight stomach. My muscles were already burning a little, not used to being spread around him and supporting all of my weight at the same time.

“Okay, look at me.”

I looked at Levi, tossing my hair out of my eyes and nodding while I tried to breathe evenly.

“So this is step one. See, I’ve got you. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

I was just sitting still. When Levi said that he threw his hips up into me from below, laughing when I yelped and jerked my head back at the shallow, jarring sensation. “Yes!”

“Now just roll your hips, okay? Oh, look at that, you got super hard in a hurry. Damn.” He was distracted for a moment, staring at the way my cock was jutting up and out, curving and straining erect. “Nice. Anyway, don’t worry about bouncing around, just grind for now.”

I moved a couple of times and felt his cock sliding inside me, following the angle of my body when I did. I was panting by the time I noticed that Levi was responding to my rhythm with little countering movements, thrusting up hard when my hips bottomed out on each pass.

I stretched my neck and let go of a hard “Ah!”, impressed by how much bigger he felt when I was the one guiding the motions.

“Yeah,” Levi started and clamped onto my hips, keeping me centered while my rhythm got faster. “Yeah, you—“

He cut himself off. “No, go on,” I said. “Go on with whatever you were going to say.” I pushed my hips down harder and ground into him at a more intense, shallow angle. Levi closed his eyes and hissed, answering me immediately.

“Get down on my cock like a greedy little whore, I was going to say.”

“That’s good,” I panted, letting the hair hang in my eyes again as I leaned forward a bit and kept moving on him.

“You don’t mind that?”

“What?” I gasped between hard breaths. “Whore?” I leaned back again and gathered my strength before I drew up on my knees by an inch or two. “Not from you.”

Levi looked up at me and I was barely able to focus on him, concerned as I was with staying there. My muscles started to shake a little as they held me up, even while Levi used the extra space to slam inside of me from below. I cried out loudly with each thrust, panting between, like he was literally propelling everything out of me every time.

“You sound like you’re in pain,” he growled. “I can’t explain how goddamn hot that is.”

“I am hurting a little, but not there,” I told him, and almost chuckled. He threw his hips up into me, though, and I yelled again.

“Jesus,” Levi breathed. “Jesus, Eren…”

“I’m sorry,” I grimaced, and just as my thighs hit their straining limit, I fell back onto him with limp legs. “I can’t. I can’t.”

“Can you crouch?” He asked, the focus of his words absolute.

“I…” I shook my head in spite of myself. I wanted to keep that flow going. He’d been hitting my prostate with a few of those thrusts and I could only imagine how good it would be if we’d struck a rhythm. “Eh? I don’t know.”

“Get up, get up.” He leaned up slightly and pulled me by the arms. Finally catching my breath and coming back to my senses. I folded like a ragdoll into the movements at first, until he laughed at me, I laughed back at him, and he pulled at my knees.

“This feels so unattractive,” I said when I’d finally maneuvered to crouch over him. “Like, I feel really awkward right now.”

“Sex isn’t about being attractive.” Panting, he slapped at my jutting knee and tugged at his cock a couple of times. “Actually, that’s the last thing you should worry about while we’re having sex, because trust me, people look their _worst_ when they’re fucking. That’s why it’s hot. That’s… I mean, that’s… you know what, fuck it, now isn’t the time for a life lesson, let’s do this. I want to fuck your ass so bad, let’s do this.”

I reached back and held myself up on Levi’s thighs, crouching on my ankles like some obscene crab as he helped guide me onto his cock. Once I was seated, comfortably though the mechanics were still making my head spin a little, Levi pressed his palm against my balls and grabbed my dick. I yelped and almost lost my balance.

“Oh my _god_ the way you just tightened up was beautiful,” he said, almost _giggling_ he was so pleased with himself. “Let’s fucking do this.”

I growled, and if I weren’t stuffed full of him and desperate to make him come, I might have been indignant at the stunt. Instead, his prediction was correct – it was much easier to balance on my ankles, to push myself up and let myself back down, in the position we’d adopted. Levi guided me with his hands still on my waist, not letting me jerk too high, or at least trying. I pulled off of him a couple of times, caught up in the momentum, but by the time I understood the feeling, the rhythm, how far and how fast and how hard I could move, I was enjoying one of the best sensations I’d ever felt.

I arched my back just slightly and clamped onto his thighs with my hands. Suddenly Levi’s cock was jabbing right into me at the perfect angle. I yelled once, realized it felt even better when I did, and after that I didn’t stop groaning and panting and crying out like I was in the middle of a balls-to-the-wall workout.

It was _definitely_ the best sensation I’d ever felt.  

He started to answer me with inarticulate cries of his own, and just when I thought I was about to lose my composure and turn to jelly on top of him all over again, Levi sat up with a growling moan and pulled at me.

Before I knew what was happening I was on my back, and he’d thrown one of my legs over his shoulder. The body architecture of the whole thing didn’t even make sense to me, it was so sudden, but all that mattered suddenly was Levi holding my ass fast to his hips as he fucked me with a raw and brutal power that made me cover my face at one point and scream into my hands. Not that it hurt, no – it just felt _so good_ , and it felt even better when I put my body into a state of expressing it. That was the biggest discovery of the night.

“Don’t you cover your mouth, you little shit,” Levi grunted, still holding off on his orgasm by some miracle as his right hand started to pump my cock in tight little strokes. “Ah! Fucking… fucking let me hear it if you’re gonna scream.”

He thumbed the ridge of my cock and pounded into me at the same time. Relieved of the stress of concentration, I realized I was already coming. I threw out my hands and grabbed his sheets, pulled hard at them and arched my back as I started on a low, guttural sound and finished on a loud, primal yell as Levi fucked me through my orgasm.

“Ah! Fuck!” Levi yelled back to me through clenched teeth. “You’re fucking… perfect!”

I couldn’t think of much, so I didn’t think about that one until I had time to lie in my own bed and feel it comfort me. In the moment, I just surged with confidence and used the only strength I had to grind into Levi as he pulled me in hard and came, gasping “fuck” as he did.

We sprawled in two different directions on his bed, panting in recovery. After the initial stunned minute or two of silence, I sounded like a disaster victim crawling out of the rubble as I turned and made my way to him. I felt like reiterating something he’d said to me what felt like ages ago, but it might have been in poor taste so I didn’t.

_I can’t feel my legs._

I didn’t have much of a frame of reference, but it was the best sex I’d had in my life. I was thinking about that, wondering as all the emotions went crazy inside of me whether Levi thought less of me because I was so inexperienced. But then, he’d been the one to say I was the best. He called me perfect. He was lying back with a hand thrown over his forehead, eyes closed and chest rocking softly with breath. I kissed him on the cheek and collapsed halfway over him.

“Oh my god you’re so hot,” he muttered.

“Thank you.”

“No, I mean literally you’re burning up, I’m about to open a window and see if it evens out the temperature in here.”

“Rude.”

We shoved each other back and forth until I laughed and Levi let out a long, grousing noise and sat up. He shook his head and swayed in the position, so naturally I grabbed him around the waist. “Maybe it’s because I’m still new at all of this, but that was pretty great,” I said, not wanting to oversell my enthusiasm.

“Oh, no, that’s not because you’re new at this; that was some ridiculous fucking,” Levi looked one way and then the other, like he was searching for something else before he stared down at me. “Well done, grasshopper.”

I laughed loudly. We’d been watching _Kung Fu_ together some nights when the reruns were on, so I actually got that joke. “I’m getting there.”

“Practice makes perfect,” he joked, and kissed the top of my head quickly.

After five minutes he said he couldn’t wait any longer, and left me on the bed so he could take a shower. I slipped into a nap while he was gone, lulled by the sound of the running water in the next room.

I woke up with a start to Levi’s voice. “You’re drooling on my sheets, gross.”

“I came on your sheets, grosser,” I bit back at him groggily, sitting up and wiping my cheek. Glancing down at my spot, though, I added, “Oh, yeah, I drooled a _lot_ , that is kind of gross. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Levi pulled me over and nudged my face with his nose. “So I was going to say, let’s keep talking about costumes.”

“Oh, yeah, we were talking about that.”

Levi was pulling on a pair of jeans. “So what do you think?”

He’d seemed very enthusiastic, on the ride back to his apartment from the matinee showing of _Pulp Fiction_ he’d snuck me into _,_ that we’d found out Halloween costumes. “From the movie? Yeah, that would be pretty cool. And easy. I mean, you kind of look like her already.”

He turned to me and smiled in a way that was almost giddy, if slightly reserved. “Thanks,” he said carefully, and stood up to fasten his pants. “Mia Wallace and Vincent Vega. A doomed couple if there ever was one. Sure Jean won’t mind me coming to the party? In drag?”

“He actually said I should bring you. He thinks you’re hot.”

Levi laughed and walked to his closet, and I admired his tattoo as he did. He started to pull on a plain black t-shirt and I asked, “Are you going anywhere tonight?”

“Besides having a show to do? Nah.” He turned around and started walking back toward me. “How about you?”

“I have to work tomorrow morning, so I shouldn’t be out too late.”

“Okay. Hey.” He leaned over me and my eyes went wide. With his hands covering mine at my sides, Levi pushed his nose closed and waited a beat before continuing. The shift had been out of nowhere. “I wanted to tell you something.”

My heart started to flip-flop immediately. I knew what I wanted to hear from him, but logic would never let me believe those words were anywhere near on the way. “What?” I whispered.

“Every single second, today. While you were riding me, while you were under me, and screaming and coming and sucking my cock, I want you to know, you looked so good I could die. Don’t think I meant for a second that you don’t look like a fucking sex god to me, because you do.”

My lips moved, quivered, but I didn’t know what to say. I breathed in quicker and after I was silent for several seconds Levi just leaned in and kissed me again. “Get dressed; I got paid yesterday and I want to go eat somewhere. I’m thinking it’s buffet time.”

“Can I…” I could barely think, but I could still remember the important things. “Can I bring something home for Mikasa?”

He turned and smirked at me over his shoulder, pausing oddly for a moment. “Let’s just bring her along.”

“I don’t want to—“

“I’ll call Hanji, too.” He already had his mind made up, and was on his way into the hallway, grabbing the doorframe as he turned.

I sat on the bed and closed my eyes tightly, took all of the things that had just happened out of their packages and laid them out, admired them, thought about what they meant. I pushed my hands up into my hair and fell back on the bed, wondering again about cause and effect.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The promised Halloween Party chapter! I've been looking forward to writing this for a long time. Lots of stuff going on, lots of different stuff to explore, so you get not one, or two, but five different POVs in this chapter. Wow. WOW.
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking with the story, guys. Got something interesting planned for Levi's birthday. Wait for that. And to all new readers: welcome!
> 
> Oh, and also because a couple of people have pointed out the disparity in birthdays, please read [the FAQ](http://wangs-of-freedom.tumblr.com/faq) because hey. It's a cool FAQ and you may learn something about the fic yay!

_Eren_

“Hey,” Ymir announced as she walked back into the room holding a can of Old Milwaukee. “Our totally not homosexual Vice Principal just showed up as a member of the Village People or something.”

Christa, slipping in behind her, offered a quick correction. “He’s Indiana Jones. Like Armin.”

“That’s a totally unimportant point.”

Armin whipped around. “Ymir, what did you think my costume was this whole time?”

“Oh dear god, why is he here?” I cried out and almost pushed my hands up through my hair before I remembered I was wearing a wig. I’d just started to get a pleasant beer buzz going; I did not need things to get more complicated.

“He knows my parents!” Jean barked, obviously just as nettled as I was.

“I sort of want to go see him,” Reiner admitted.

“Of course you do!” Jean shot back.

“Why do you want to go see him?” Bertl asked, and Reiner stuttered his way through some sort of excuse. Meanwhile, I was distracted by Armin, who breezed between me and Jean and said on his way to the French doors, “Well I’m going to go say hi!”

“Really?” Jean gestured after his boyfriend but looked at me. The fact that he was dressed as Maverick from Top Gun didn’t help him look like less of a dick about it. I figured that if Jean couldn’t figure out Armin’s sudden attachment to Erwin Smith, I wasn’t about to enlighten him. I just crossed my arms and shrugged.

I shot Levi a look, and for about the hundredth time that night I had to remind myself that it was, indeed, Levi. His resemblance to Uma Thurman was slightly off-putting, once he had the makeup on. He sighed and lifted his martini to his lips. He’d mixed it himself. Normally Jean didn’t offer up use of the bar at his parties, but had made special accommodation for Levi in drag. “Hey, I won’t lie, I’m curious.”

Part of me -- that being the spiteful and childish part of me -- wanted to show Levi off in front of Erwin, just to see the discomfort screw up his unreasonably handsome face.

Of course, we all followed Armin into the enormous downstairs kitchen under the guise of getting some more ice, or drinks, or _something_. The adults (well, adults that weren’t Levi) were talking in the adjacent living room. Jean pulled Armin back by one shoulder and fixed him with a look I could actually identify with: jealousy tempered with awkward, sort of possessive love. Then, he leaned around the corner and shouted, “We don’t need a chaperone! Go home!”

A smattering of laughter from the next room, and I moved back a few steps as Erwin appeared around the door frame, pointing firmly at Jean. “Hey. I’m on my way to a party at the Navy Base; trust me, I’m going to need my own chaperone by the end of the night. I just stopped in because my costume gets me in. Also your poor parents needed the vote of confidence.”

When I glanced back to make sure Levi wasn’t getting too glassy-eyed over the way Erwin Smith made Indiana Jones look like a male stripper, I noticed that Reiner appeared to have slipped into a catatonic state.

Jean threw another barb into the conversation but Erwin beat it back. I wasn’t really listening to what they were saying. I was too busy watching Levi. He just glanced over at me, squeezed my hand again, and smirked.

When I returned my attention to the proceedings, Erwin and Armin were staring at one another. Erwin smiled. Armin didn’t, really. “Nice costume,” he said.

“Yeah, yours too.” Erwin chuckled. “This is awkward.”

Armin did not, I must point out, make Indiana Jones look quite so much like a male stripper. At least his shirt was buttoned all the way and seemed to fit. Beyond that, though, they were wearing the same thing.

“Yours is much better than mine, though,” Armin mentioned, looking Erwin up and down in a way that Jean was beginning to take notice of. “Oh, wow! Where did you get a whip?”

“I should really be going.” Erwin lifted a finger like he was beckoning for the check and turned toward the exit. I clapped a hand over my face just because I _knew_ I had every reason to be mortified, as Levi threw his head back and cackled.

The cackle made Erwin stop. I braced myself.

Levi just made the most ridiculous face, somewhere between an overwrought “oh, hello there” and a sarcastic invitation to fight, and snorted another laugh. Erwin’s eyes swept him only for an instant; then they ricocheted off of me and went back to Levi’s face. “Pulp Fiction,” he nodded quickly.

“So I see you’re not entirely out of touch,” Levi said, smirking so intensely that it almost became a sneer. That was probably the point.

“You two look the part.”

“We should, I restyled two good wigs for this.”

I felt the need to break the tension, or perhaps add to it; whatever I was doing, I felt the need to do it. “What’s your wife’s costume?” I asked, and noticed Jean lead Armin to the fridge as if directing him away from the crossfire.

Erwin paused for only a beat before responding. “Pregnant Wonder Woman, actually.” He pointed at the air, nowhere in particular. “That wasn’t me putting in the descriptor, by the way, she’s demanding that everyone call her Pregnant Wonder Woman when they address her.”

Levi just took another sip of his martini and looked at me. I was so glad he looked at me. It made all the difference.

Apparently she was also waiting for him, and after explaining quickly that it wasn’t wise to keep a Navy woman who couldn’t drink at a party waiting, Erwin excused himself.

“Okay, well, if that’s the uncomfortable highlight of the evening, I think we’ll have done well,” Levi said, leaning closer to wrap his arm around mine.

“That was interesting,” I breathed, nodding. Not since falling for Levi and admitting my own attraction had I seen him in the same room as – did I dare put it in such uncomplicated terms? – his ex. It hadn’t gone nearly as badly as it could have.

“You little shit, calling him out on his wife in a room full of gay boys. Good job.”

I chuckled and Jean started to ask us what sort of pizza we wanted. Reiner was telling Bertl, who still hadn’t loosened up since being at the party thirty minutes before Reiner even arrived, who Erwin Smith was and why that was a big deal. I had my suspicions about the way they were acting together, but I’d have to wait until I had Reiner alone to ask.

The party had started well. Mikasa was coming later with Annie in tow, once they made an appearance with some other friends, and Levi couldn’t keep his hands off me. I knew he was enjoying the attention, enjoying the casual atmosphere of the party, the way I introduced him as my boyfriend and called out Erwin Smith. He told Jean he wanted a pizza with black olives on it. No other toppings, just cheese and black olives.

“Weirdo,” Jean sneered in response, and Levi led me by one hand back to the sunroom, ostensibly where I could show him off to more people he hadn’t met.

\--

_Ymir_

“So I thought you were doing costumes from _Beauty and the Beast_ ,” Eren said, lifting an eyebrow at me. I just double checked the curl at the front of my pompadour and smirked.

“Christa didn’t want to wear a wig.”

I was much more comfortable dressed as Danny Zuko anyway. I was buff, sure, but I wasn’t exactly Gaston level buff. Next to me, Christa swished her skirt and crinolines back and forth, enjoying the sound like the little nerd she was.

“You look almost disturbingly like a dude,” Carolina said. I didn’t know her that well; she was a cheerleader and was one of those people that hung out around Jean but didn’t really hang out _with_ him. Playing into the edge of discomfort I heard, I leaned over and put my arm on her shoulder.

“Oh, yeah? So what are you doing later?”

Carolina laughed and shrugged out from beneath my arm, but that wasn’t the point. It had all been so I could feel Christa wrap her arms around me and growl in that disapproving way she did when I paid attention to other girls.

“What’s wrong?” I turned back to her.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head and glancing away. Sandy was perfect for her. Pink was her color, after all. I only took my eyes off of her when Levi spoke up.

“Well, if we can have a drag queen at this party, it only stands to reason that we should have a drag king,” he said.

“ _Thank_ you.” I nodded, even as Christa took my hand in hers and started to write something on it with a pen. She doodled on me all the time, so it didn’t even faze me. Carolina had wandered off, but that didn’t concern me either. I liked talking to Levi. Somehow I felt more of a connection to him than the boys I tended to surround myself with. Was it because he dressed like a woman? I don’t know, maybe. “I think it’s throwing people off that I’m doing this seriously. I’m really trying to look like a dude, this isn’t a joke.”

“Yeah, same. Everyone thinks I’m a girl.” Levi said, and then shrugged. Eren just stood by, nodding. His suit was just a little too small, and he was far too baby-faced to pull off John Travolta the way I did, but at least his wig was spot-on.

Maybe Levi was onto something with the drag king thing. I’d enjoyed gearing up for the party way too much. I wanted to dress like this more often. “It’s because all the straight boys don’t want to face the fact that you look hot,” I smirked.

“Thank you!” Levi replied brightly.

Finally, I looked down to see what Christa had done to my hand.

 **Property of Me!** , the top of my palm read, with a squiggly arrow pointing up my wrist.

My heart thumped but of course I wasn’t going to let on. I looked at it, then looked at her. “Property of the leather jacket?” I asked.

She scoffed and smacked me on the shoulder.

\--

_Armin_

Eren found me outside, where I’d wandered to the edge of the mostly-empty deck while Jean was playing Sega with some other guys. I was pretty good at Sonic, but they were playing Joe Montana Football and I couldn’t have been less interested. Besides, I’d fallen into a weird thinky mood halfway through the night.

“It’s cold out here, are you okay?”

I turned halfway and shrugged at him. “I’m prepared for the elements.”

With a sigh, Eren walked up next to me and jumped up on the deck railing, taking a seat there. “So what’s up?”

“I don’t know. Just thinking.”

“Ah?”

“I guess midterms got me thinking. I mean, I did really well, but it’s all the talk of college that’s coming up now. Not just with me, but—“ I cut myself off.

“Yeah,” Eren replied, picking at a thread on his jacket.

“He’s probably going to Princeton.”

“That’s cool, though, I mean at least it’s not California or something.”

I shot Eren a look, even though I didn’t really mean to. “It’s still far away. And it just worries me, because I know I’m going to be stuck in Virginia, no matter how good my grades are.”

“You might be able to get scholarships and stuff to pay for your expenses, though. Some scholarships are out of state. Like, specific schools and stuff.” I was surprised that he knew so much about it. Eren’s grades had plateaued again, since the incident with his dad, but he talked as if he’d done well enough on his midterms. Maybe he was looking into options for himself. “I mean, that happens a lot for students as good as you are.”

Sighing, I rolled my shoulders to try and shrug off some of the tension. “I don’t want to follow him or anything, though. I mean, I _do_ , but that’s just so risky. I really want to go to Cornell. Either way, Jean wants me to come with him when he visits Princeton next month, and I’m like _I’m not ready for this_ , you know?”

“Yeah.” Eren paused. He wasn’t the sort who took problems and made them his own, but I knew the weight of understanding in his voice. “I want to go to college, too. But I don’t want to leave, either. I don’t want to leave any of you.”

My heart actually warmed, to hear him put it that way. But in the same moment it warmed, I felt bad about the way I’d been whining. “I’m sorry, I’m talking like Jean is the only thing I’m going to move away from.”

“Nah!” Eren said, not looking at me, just disagreeing loudly enough that I knew I’d struck a nerve and he was purposefully avoiding making a big deal out of the topic. “No, it’s cool. I know what you mean. But, just so you know, I’m gonna go crazy without you. When I’m studying and stuff, when I just want to hang out and watch stupid TV shows that Levi can’t stand.”

“Yeah,” Armin laughed. “Yeah, that’s true. Same here, who knows when I’ll wanna play board games and watch bad movies and stuff.”

“Oh! Oh, I wanted to mention that. We totally played Trivial Pursuit at my house a couple of weeks ago. I wanted to make that a thing, if you want in.”

My eyes must have lit up. Eren knew I loved Trivial Pursuit. We usually played it alone, and even if Eren said he wasn’t smart I knew he caught on to a lot of stuff just by playing the game. Then again, sometimes we just played Scattergories and wrote in-jokes for all of our answers, dying of laughter before we could even finish a game. I didn’t want to act like two years was right around the corner. At the same time, I didn’t want to squander what time I had left with my best friend. “Yeah? Like game night?”

“I was thinking so, yeah. The station closes early on Sunday nights, so, maybe then?”

“That’s cool. Dang, now I’m excited for game night.”

Eren snickered.  “Me too.”

We stayed quiet for a bit. A strong breeze blew through, and a couple of other people came out onto the deck. I pulled my jacket tighter. “Brrr. Okay, yeah, maybe we’d better get back inside.”

Like he realized it was his last chance to bring it up, Eren spoke up importantly. “Hey, are you worried? Like, about being apart?”

He wasn’t asking for _me_ , I could tell. I rolled my shoulders out again. “What do you mean?” I asked, and cleared my throat softly.

I knew very well what he meant. I just wanted someone else to put it into words so I didn’t feel so bad for even considering it. “Like… that you’ll break up. Or, meeting other people and stuff. Not that I think that’ll happen, but—“

I cut him off before he started to sound too apologetic, like he was casting aspersions on my relationship when that wasn’t it at all. “No! I mean yeah. No, it’s not something for you to worry about asking, I get it. It’s just… yeah. Of course I am. I mean, Marco moved away and they broke up.” I took in a deep breath and my teeth started to chatter, which they only did when I got all tense in the cold.

“Okay. Just checking, because it scares me, too.”

“So, um…” I took a deep breath, a cold breath, and took a couple of steps back from the railing. I put out my arms in an attempt to seem optimistic. “Let’s make sure they never want to break up with us, okay? I mean, that should be easy, we’re great guys!”

Eren laughed, but it was a nervous laugh. It got him down off the railing, though, and confident enough to follow me back inside. Whatever happened, I told myself, I was still excited for game night. And that sort of twisted my brain into remembering not to get caught up on things that were so far away. Even before game night, there was the rest of the party. I tackle-hugged Eren from behind, just to annoy him, on the way back in. He wondered why I was laughing, suddenly.

“Just because I’m having fun.”

\--

_Bertholdt_

“Hold on.”

“You’ve said that three times now. What are we waiting for?” Reiner paused. “Someone else?”

We kept laughing, that was the main problem. That was the problem any time we got together, though. He said that I made him laugh, but that’s what I thought about him, too. Maybe we were just both nervous, too nervous to get over ourselves. “No!”

I looked down at him, not quite smiling because I was tense all over, but trying to look as excited as I was. “It’s just that this isn’t really the place we should be…”

“Are you kidding? This is the perfect place. No one ever comes back here.”

I stopped talking because, of course, Reiner would know. He’d been coming over to Jean’s house for years. Maybe? He hadn’t known Jean very long, really. He only started hanging out with him recently. How did he know about Jean’s downstairs guest bedroom and why it was an appropriate place to sneak off to and make out?

Why did I _care_ so much, was the real question. Reiner was kissing my neck and that was literally the only thing I should have had on my mind. Finally, I stopped protesting. “Okay, just don’t… let’s not do too much, okay? I don’t want to get caught with my pants down in this house.”

“Me neither.” We hadn’t even _gone_ that far yet, who was I to bring that up? It had been a figure of speech, right? I was being a tease, wasn’t I? I desperately wanted to get my pants down, just maybe not in Jean’s house. And even then, the thought scared me.

“Ugghhh,” I moaned nervously before I even realized I was doing it.

At least Reiner knew what the sound was, by now. “Don’t worry. Don’t worry. I just want to kiss you a little bit. You look good in a suit.”

“I want to kiss you, too,” I said, stopping to look at him. Reiner met my eyes, and after just a moment’s pause he looked away and chuckled. I mimicked him, and then pulled his face back to mine. It was great, kissing him. Holding him. Just feeling someone next to me, against me, being totally comfortable. Little by little, I’d learn to calm down and not be so worked up about doing something wrong or turning him off or moving too fast too soon.

For now, though, in the downstairs guest bedroom of Jean’s house, I just kissed him and rubbed my fingers in his hair. “Yeah, by the way, you look really good too.”

“Maybe these costumes were a bad idea, they just make us horny.”

The word piqued my nerves again. I was ready for kissing, for making out, but not exactly for _horny_. Maybe I should have been ready for it, though? I had no idea what to say to that, I had no idea what to do.

“Um,” I started on a tittering laugh but Reiner smothered it with a kiss. I caught my breath between our lips and left it behind, tried to move past it. We were still just standing there, between the door and the bed, and I wondered where we were going, if anywhere. Usually we were sitting down, on my loveseat upstairs or in the car. It had only been three times, really, that we’d gotten the chance to make out. Three times I remembered in excruciating detail, but only three times nonetheless.

Reiner’s hand started moving down my back before I knew what was going on. I grunted into his mouth as his fingers slid below my jacket, past my waist. Even though I knew what he was getting at, I still wasn’t quite ready when his palm (delicately, I want to add) pushed against my trousers to cup my ass.

Instead of breaking away, which was my first instinct, I mirrored him and stupidly clamped my hand on his ass, too. He laughed against my lips and I was scared I’d done exactly the wrong thing. But then his hand squeezed me. Again, I grunted into his mouth, which was pushing rather insistently against mine, our tongues wound together in what I could only trust being the right way, not that I’d had any prior experience kissing.

I squeezed him back, and figured it was time to say something. “Wow, your butt’s really firm.” Then again, everything about him was really firm.

Reiner closed his eyes and laughed uncomfortably and leaned his head against my shoulder. I didn’t really know what to do so I just kneaded him in my hand, and that’s when Reiner’s hips pushed up into mine.

How had we actually been keeping a few inches of chaste distance from each other?, was my first reaction to that. The second reaction was a rush of blood from my head when I realized something else was definitely firm.

“Oh my god,” I whispered into him.

“I’m sorry,” he replied, like it was a _problem._

The only problem was that I had no idea what to do about it in the middle of Jean Kirschtein’s Halloween party. So, with few other options, I fastened my other hand on the back of his neck and kept kissing him, barreling forward where my only carefree instincts told me to just push back into him. This time, it was Reiner who moaned into _my_ mouth.

That was all I needed to keep going. And it felt good. It felt _really_ good, so good that I was also starting to rise to the occasion. “Whoa, oh my god,” Reiner gasped between us once, and pulled me in sharply, both hands on my ass. We stumbled a little, lost our balance with the pitch of our hips, and fell toward the door. Reiner’s back hit it hard, made it rattle in its frame. In the terrifying moment of potential discovery we gasped apart and went silent. Our hips stayed tight, however. My erection slid into Reiner’s insistently, and in the silence I could hear the fabric of our pants rubbing together. We were looking at each other, and still moving. Unable to stop.

_Who cares who heard? Right now, who cares?_

“Oh my god,” Reiner said again, and closed his eyes when I grabbed one of his legs and pulled it up, anything to try and make the friction even better. I wondered what he was thinking, but talking was the last thing I wanted to do. Anything could throw me off, anything could ruin it. I’d never felt it before; someone else was actually _aroused_ because of me. I wondered, suddenly, if he’d ever gotten hard before while we were making out. In the last week I’d finally gotten up the nerve to even think about him for a moment while I was masturbating, so what if he…

“ _God!_ ” I pushed hard against Reiner’s crotch and flattened my free hand on the door. He replied with a sharp, throaty moan.

Then, my heart nearly exploded right out of my neck when someone knocked on the door. Instantly, it was like everything went supernova, and not in a good way at all. I let go of Reiner and jumped back, put my hands over my mouth and wondered whether to say anything, but when he hauled himself out of his position it made enough noise that I knew: _we’ve been found_.

We glanced at each other, and I noticed him glance at the window momentarily in a move that would have been hilarious if the circumstances weren’t so terrifying.

The door flew open regardless, probably _because_ we hadn’t said anything (in retrospect, wouldn’t it have just been better to shout at whoever it was to go away? Maybe to _lock the door?_ I was at the head of my class but wow, I lacked survival skills). In stumbled a couple already locked together at the lips, and I only stopped panicking when I realized who that couple was.

“Occupied!” Reiner blurted out angrily.

Levi, literally wrapped around Eren with his legs and arms alike, looked over at us so quickly that his wig hit Eren in the face when it swung.

He just grinned. It was when Eren realized who _we_ were that the actual vocal reactions started.

I didn’t know what else to do so I turned, wondering why my erection wouldn’t just go away instantly. “I knew it!” Eren practically yelled.

“Shut up, Eren!” Reiner panted. It was really awkward because I knew from listening to a few conversations here and there that Reiner had liked Eren before he met me.

Levi, still balanced gracefully in Eren’s arms, said, “I mean, you can _stay_ if you want _,_ but…”

Reiner didn’t say anything to that, he just grabbed me by the hand and stormed out of the room. I caught Levi’s eye for a moment when we passed. He smirked at me so thoroughly I almost felt violated.

\--

_Levi_

I never actually went to parties when I was in high school. My Friday nights were geared more toward catching a ride into the city, flirting my way into the right clubs, and snorting a week of pay up my nose before deciding who was going to take me home. Not always because I wanted to get laid; sometimes it was just because I wanted a place to sleep, and if I had to give a blowjob or ride a little dick to get that, sure, whatever.

But this, this was something oddly quaint. Nothing quaint, really, all told, about Eren fucking me on a bed in his friend’s house, nor the fact that Eren had been the one with the foresight to come prepared for the possibility of ravishing me in costume that night. Quaint, though, that I was well beyond my teenage years and finally doing what was largely considered the standard teenage thing to do. Clear-headed, feeling things… I was flirting dangerously with _normal._ Still getting great sex out of the deal was only a bonus.

Maybe that’s what was making me something of a pathetic, romantic mess, not throwing myself into a performance, just wrapping my arms around Eren when he finally collapsed over me and my legs went limp around him. “Good job,” I told him, and left another of many lipstick marks on his face when I kissed him. “I’ll consider that an early present.”

“What…” He panted, and pulled back to look at me. I flicked the short ponytail over his shoulder and chuckled. “What do you mean?”

“Okay, I’m getting ahead of myself, maybe. I still have a week. Oh god, I didn’t get anything on this duvet, did I?” We’d put down a towel from the bathroom, just in case, but even with a few drinks in me I was still concerned about such things.

“No, I don’t think so,” Eren was still trying to catch his breath, and he finally sat up and looked around. “Nah. But what are you talking about? A week? Until what?”

I couldn’t really blame him for not knowing. Not exactly. We’d never explicitly talked about it, but then he’d also never _asked._ That, I figured, made it a joint responsibility. We’d both sort of failed, but he knew I was bad at relationships when he met me. Nevertheless, I put on my stoniest expression and lifted one drawn-on eyebrow. “November 3rd.”

“November 3rd. Okay.”

“My birthday…?”

The look on his face was worth it. I sat up, despite a slight ache in my abs, and reached between my legs to clean myself off with the towel. Eren couldn’t see me smirking at him as he started to apologize and rant about how he had no idea and he was sorry for being an idiot and should he do anything and what did I want to do and I’m sorry and I’m sorry and—

“Shhhhut up.” I turned to him and put a finger to his lips. “It’s okay. But yeah. I’m turning 26 next week. I also work that night and you have school the next day so let’s not get ahead of ourselves with plans.”

“It’s your birthday, though,” he muttered against my finger, still looking like a kicked puppy. “We have to do something special.”

“We will,” I assured him, and patted his cheek quickly.

When we finally left the room, the party seemed less densely packed than it had been before. A few people were talking in the kitchen, and the sunroom was still full, but the rowdiness seemed to have petered out. I stepped over someone curled up on the floor in a mermaid costume, wondering if they intended to be Ariel or Daryl Hannah, since they certainly weren’t wearing a wig to indicate either. Maybe Jean had let them in on a technicality, but I would have turned my nose up at that as a movie costume.

“I wonder what your friends got up to,” I snickered. “After we interrupted.”

“Oh,” Eren caught my tone. “You mean Reiner and Bertl. Look, don’t mention that. I think they’re trying to remain discreet about it.”

“Yeah, the tent the tall guy was pitching sure seemed discreet.” I snorted.

“Shhh!” He slapped my arm and we made our way upstairs to Jean’s TV room, where we only assumed good times were ongoing.

My spirits lifted immediately when I realized who’d finally made it. “Heeeeyyy!” I walked past Mikasa and she held up her palm. Despite it being against my very nature, I high-fived her. Maybe even the high-five was part of her costume, though. She’d gone all out, even if she’d done so on a budget: scraggly cheap wig, ripped jeans, and a black baseball cap with the Wayne’s World logo painted in White-Out.

“Party on, Wayne.” I fell into the sofa next to her, and put my feet up on the low coffee table, following her example. Eren seemed extremely pleased with her costume, which had apparently been kept a secret from him for the last several days.

“You look hot,” she told me.

“Yeah, your brother did a good job of not fucking up my makeup just now.”

It was always satisfying to get Mikasa’s face to scrunch up in slight disgust, just because it was such a difficult thing to do. I was pleased that she even got my inference. “Ew.”

I chuckled to myself, surveying the rest of the room ( _Silence of the Lambs_ was on the TV, but only Jean and Armin seemed to be paying attention). Then, I got poked in the arm.

I _knew_ I’d smelled something pleasantly awful when I walked upstairs, and sure enough there was Annie, potential lesbian and confirmed pothead, dressed as Garth and offering me a joint. I regarded her with a wan half-smile for a moment, and then raised my voice. “Jean?”

“Yeah?” He called back, as if I’d shocked him out of his concentration on the movie.

“How in the world are your parents okay with this?” I gestured to the joint, and Mikasa reached over me to claim it. Eren started to chide her one seat over. It was adorable, how uptight he was about such things.

Jean shrugged. “As long as I don’t buy it, as long as I don’t sell it, they’re totally fine if I smoke it. They know it’s gonna happen anyway.”

“They know, do they?” I turned that one over in my head and wondered how different my perception of cops might have been if half of them, maybe even one of them, treated other kids with the same benefit of the doubt that Jean’s dad treated him. “Hm, okay.”

“You hitting this?” Mikasa asked me.

“Nah,” I waved my hand in the air and glanced over at Eren, who seemed extremely relieved by my refusal. “I’m good.”  

And really, I was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to review, here are the costumes:
> 
> Eren: Vincent Vega (Pulp Fiction)  
> Levi: Mia Wallace (Pulp Fiction)  
> Jean: Maverick (Top Gun)  
> Armin: Indiana Jones (Raiders of the Lost Ark)  
> Erwin: Indiana Jones (Temple of Doom)  
> Ymir: Danny Zuko (Grease)  
> Christa: Sandy Olsen (Grease)  
> Mikasa: Wayne (Wayne's World)  
> Annie: Garth (Wayne's World)  
> Reiner: Jake (The Blues Brothers)  
> Bertl: Elwood (The Blues Brothers)


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting longer than usual for this update, you guys are awesome, *chu*
> 
> Not much else to say here. I procrastinated like crazy on this chapter, even going so far as to stop and make a fucking lasagna in lieu of writing about it happening the story. But finally, I finished it! Enjoy!

I got in a fight on the Monday after Jean’s party, which was actually Halloween. It was nothing notable, just me reverting to my usual ways and starting trouble for no good reason. The guy was named Jake, and he made some comment about me in English – I don’t even remember what it was now, but it was enough for me to see him in the parking lot after school, run up, grab his backpack and use the leverage to fling him to the ground before jumping on him and giving him a punch to the shoulder. He didn’t fight back, though, he just shielded his face and yelled at me to get the fuck off, that he was sorry and I was a psycho, so I let Connie haul me up. I heard him apologize to the guy before he asked what the fuck was wrong with me. I didn’t answer him.

Mikasa, who had been in a meeting with a school counselor regarding early graduation, looked me over when I got home. After noting quickly that she was glad it had at least happened after school, she asked me who I was still acting out for.

“What?”

She half-shrugged. “I always figured that you fought so dad would have to clean up after your shit.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I just get really pissed off a lot. I have a lot of be pissed off about.”

Mikasa sighed, legs up on the couch, knees swaying back and forth. “You know violence isn’t cool.”

“You’re violent as hell!”

“I’m trying to change. Dickwad.”

Later that night, while we kept the lights off on the porch and ignored trick-or-treaters knocking on the door, she was cleaning. Well, more than that, it seemed like she was packing; boxing up dad’s stuff and mom’s old valuables, stacking the boxes in closets. She asked me if there was anything in particular I wanted to keep out where we could see it.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” The house already looked weirdly empty, and she’d only gone through the living room.

“I want this to be our house,” she mumbled, wrapping one of dad’s ugly bookends in newspaper. “I want it to _look_ like our house.”

Dad paid the mortgage. We got the next month’s statement in the mail and there was no past due balance. Mikasa said it made sense; even if he was an asshole, if he was trying to get straight a default on a mortgage would fuck him up worse. “He didn’t pay the utility bills, though. So tomorrow I’m going to just take some cash to the power company and see if they’ll take it.”

“Whoever he’s with in Allentown,” she said, sounding bitter at the thought, “I’ll bet she’s covering his ass. I’ll bet they’re living together.”

I just breathed in deeply and ignored it as well as I could.

She didn’t say anything else about it, moving on to something else. “Do you still want this? Wasn’t this yours?”

From the captain’s chest she was unpacking, she pulled out a small wooden box with a slot carved in the top, like a coin bank. I sat up and leaned closer to her, ignoring the television completely when I realized what it was. “Oh my god, I forgot all about that thing! Is the key still with it?”

The key was still with it. I told her that yes, of course, I wanted it.

I didn’t get to see Levi until Wednesday, the day before his birthday. I had two hours between school and work, so I came over to his house for half of that. He laid into me for fighting with significantly more displeasure than Mikasa. He didn’t get _angry,_ exactly, he was just… well…

“I’m disappointed.”

“I know,” I muttered, and stretched out as much as I could in the bean bag chair, taking up space as a defense mechanism. “I’m sorry.”

“Why did you even do that?”

“It’s no big deal! it was just some guy who pissed me off.”

Levi shook his head, like I wasn’t worth the time, and I scoffed when he turned on me and walked into the kitchen. “What, you have nothing else to say to me?”

He came back into the room eventually, and gave me the glass of Dr. Pepper he’d offered me when I first arrived. He kept a bottle it in his fridge for me even though he didn’t drink it. “What if,” he started, and sat down in the other chair. “What if I just did a line of coke one night and then I was like _no big deal, it was just to blow off some steam_?”

My mouth dropped open. “That’s not the same at all!”

“Well, it’s something you want me to not do anymore, and it’s something I know I’m better without! So that’s where I am, I think you’re better without trying to be a little badass.”

He paused. I still hadn’t reacted. I was trying to think of something intelligent to say, something insightful to prove how obtuse he was being (at the time, the word _obtuse_ wouldn’t have even occurred to me).  When Levi spoke again, he was looking at the far wall, jaw set like he was trying to remain as cool as possible. “I don’t like people who throw violence around.”

It hurt, at first. It stabbed me right in the heart because I took it to mean that he didn’t like _me_. Given a moment to catch my breath, though, I just nodded and shrugged. “Well, the first time we met, I thought that’s how _you_ were.”

He stopped showing any expression whatsoever, which was odd. Since I’d known him, he always had that over-emotional face that was stony only because it was trying to express so much at once.

“There is always someone stronger than you, okay? And if you look for fights, you’ll find worse. Remember that.”

Somehow I knew where the conversation was going, but just as quickly as I knew it, I felt Levi back off. He took a deep, preparatory breath. The tension swelled and my nerves clenched, but then the whole thing dissipated sharply like a sneeze fizzling out. “Never mind,” he said.

“I get it,” I said softly, determined not to let it be one of our flash arguments. I needed to go to work, and I didn’t want the memory of a fight, however small, clouding my thoughts. Besides, tomorrow was his birthday. That was going to be special even if I needed to work ten times harder for it. “But what if someone gives me a hard time; do I just back off and let them?”

Levi buried his face in his hands. “Eren, I know I sound like a fucking _mom_ right now and I know how much you hate that, but just don’t put yourself in a position to get hurt worse. Don’t _start_ shit _._ It’s stupid and you’re not proving anything.”

“I’m sorry,” I finally said, just wanting to do anything, say anything and mean it, to make Levi look like he was feeling something again. When I reached out and touched his leg to punctuate my apology, he rolled his eyes and snapped back to a sharp expression, smirking over at me.

“Yeah, you sure are.” He reached up and tousled my hair. We had forty minutes left before I needed to be at work. We made the most of that time.

I had a test in Chemistry the next day. I was still determined to make it into Mr. Zacharius’ class as a senior, and even though I knew the possibility was a slim one, I told Armin I’d pay him back somehow if I could come to his house early for a quick review before school.

“Wow.” He clapped my stack of index carded notes on his dining room table to straighten them out, once he’d sufficiently quizzed me. “It’s like you’re a different person. Well, a different student at least.”

I felt secure enough in the material that I actually smiled and felt my pride swell at the remark. “Thanks. I mean, let’s just hope I don’t totally choke when it comes time to take the actual test, like I always do, but…”

“You said you’ve been studying at work?”

“Yeah!” I reached up to stretch my arms, yawning as I did. “You know, it’s weird. Because it’s so slow at work on the evenings and Mr. Shadis just stays in the back office most of the time, my homework is literally all I focus on. I’m always distracted at home or the library or whatever, but there it works.”

Armin half-smiled and nodded, because he’d never be able to totally understand where I was coming from. School, and by extension, studying, had always been second nature for him. “That’s cool. I’m glad. You’re gonna be fine.” Then, he surprised me by repeating one of the questions on valence electrons that I’d gotten wrong twice already. This time, I got it right.

He was oddly silent when he got into the car, but by the time I was heading toward the end of his street, I understood why. I understood why because he asked, “So um, hey…”

“Yeah?”

“Did you have sex at Jean’s on Friday night?”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or choke on my own breath, so I just made a sort of dying animal noise and looked out the window pointedly when we stopped at the intersection.

“Okay!” Armin yelled, like it was a great relief. “Because the last people Jean saw go into the hallway downstairs were Bertl and Reiner, but then he found a condom wrapper when he went to clean up the next morning. And, like—“

I was eager to jump on the subject of gossip, just because it was empowering to know something Armin didn’t. “Oh no, they were in there!” He looked stunned, which was expected, but I had to keep my eyes on the road as I kept driving. I gestured as enthusiastically as I could while I did, though. “We actually interrupted them.”

Armin was silent for a beat so I glanced over at him. He bit his bottom lip and grinned. “Were they…?”

“I don’t know, they were just making out, I guess, but Reiner sounded pretty ticked at me.” I cleared my throat and added, “Uh, but Levi also says Bertl had a giant boner in his pants, so—“

“Ahhhh!” Armin cried excitedly. A big part of it, I knew, was his relief that Reiner didn’t seem to be hung up on me. Another part of it (a part that I shared) was second-hand excitement that Reiner was getting any at all, and from someone who seemed his direct opposite in most things. “That’s just – this is gonna sound so weird, but – _cute!”_

“You know what, I’m glad you were the first to say it, because I think they’re cute too. Cute together, you know. Ew, cute. I hate that word, though.”

He seemed to have a moment of clarity as we crossed the obvious divide between Shinganshina and Trost, marked by the used car dealership and the Denny’s. “Oh my god, how weird is it that we get to talk about other gay couples?”

“Yeah, you mean gay couples who aren’t, like, us? In our couples, I mean?”

“I know what you mean.” Armin waved his hand and laughed quickly. “But yeah, I never would have figured there were so many gay people at Trost.”

I mumbled, “Bertl doesn’t go to—“

“You know what I mean, smart-butt.”

“Armin, you can swear, it’s okay.”

“I _know_ , I’m just trying not to get into a bad habit! I’m trying not to swear as much.”

“Smart-butt,” I snickered cruelly, and he punched me in the arm.

Armin sighed loudly and shoved his hands back into the front pockets of his jacket, but he was smiling. “But, you know, there are gay people everywhere. Like, lots of them.”

“Is it really strange that I just never considered that before? And that’s why I never thought I was?”

“What, like I filled the quota?” Armin laughed again, but it was more nervous.

“As a matter of fact, that’s probably exactly what I thought. Subconsciously, at least.”

“Subconsciously,” he repeated. “Big word for seven in the morning.”

I fixed him with a look. “Quota, though.”

“Quota isn’t a big word!” He whined in his own defense.

The test was harder than I figured. I breezed through the knowledge portion but choked when it came to the actual chemical equations. Regardless, I tried to retain a little bit of optimism as I realized that a C would be good enough to keep my grades where they needed to be to move into Chemistry III in my next semester. I’d be fine.

Jean was taking Armin home, so I ducked everyone as I left my History class when the bell rang, and walked to my car with only one thing on my mind. I swung by the grocery outlet and unfolded the list of ingredients I’d copied from one of mom’s old cookbooks. The only thing that almost threw me off was ricotta cheese, because what the hell was ricotta cheese? I’d never heard of it, although I’d been eating it every time mom used to make lasagna, apparently.

I had the house to myself when I made it home with two bags full of ingredients and far more ambition than actual talent for cooking. The recipe said it would take about an hour to make.

Three hours later, I was starting to panic. Mikasa got home and stopped dead in her tracks when she entered the kitchen. “You’re cooking?” She asked, obviously as skeptical as she was horrified by the state of the counters.

“Yes. It’s Levi’s birthday.”

She picked up the empty noodle package from the counter and waved it in the air, failing to make the connection. “It’s Levi’s birthday so you’re making a lasagna. Okay.”

I sighed, watching the oven timer like my willpower would make 45 minutes at 375 degrees go faster. “Yes! I’m going to take him a homemade dinner at work, piss off.”

She smiled and then laughed, finally opening the fridge for a can of pop. “What is this, _Clerks_?”

“What?” I sighed again, anxious about even making it in time for Levi’s dinner break.

“In _Clerks._ She brings him lasagna at work. It’s that whole thing. You’ve seen _Clerks,_ right?”

“ _Yes_.” I paused, and didn’t answer her. I just kept looking at the oven, tapping my foot. Mikasa didn’t move, and the weight of her looking at me finally made me snap, “Okay, maybe I was subconsciously thinking of that part from the movie. Go away!”

“Subconsciously,” she started, mock-impressed. “Big—“

“Big word, I know. Go away.”

“Love you,” she teased me and reached out to grab my shoulder. I swatted her hand away and sneered. “You’re such a good boyfriend.”

“Shut up.”

The lasagna finally finished cooking at 6:30, and I just stuck a towel underneath the pan so it wouldn’t burn my hands off in the bag while I transported it to the donut shop. I told Levi I would visit him at work on his birthday, but I didn’t tell him anything about the surprise I had planned. I hoped he hadn’t gotten sick of waiting. I also hoped the lasagna tasted even slightly good, since it was the first thing more complicated than spaghetti and meatballs I’d ever made.

His usual nighttime coworker, Erd, was at the window. Erd knew me, and knew I was dating Levi, but it didn’t mean he treated me like less of a kid (and didn’t take pains to call Levi a cradle robber, every chance he had).  “Hey, buddy!” He greeted me. He was a surfer, Levi told me, and not a very good one, but he really made up for it by looking the part and smoking enough weed to sedate most of the East coast.

“Is Levi here?” I asked, like I would be there for anything else.

“Yeah, he’s in the back taking his break. If you wanna come over to the back door I’ll tell him to meet you.”

I sighed and nodded, heading for the back, feeling like crap because I’d missed my chance. Oh, well. It was the thought that counted, wasn’t it?

Levi opened the door, which was set up by a step that was just tall enough to give him a height advantage on me. He was looking down on me when he said, “Hey,” which I had to admit was sort of hot.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thanks for visiting.” He smiled coolly. “I just went on break, two minutes ago.”

“I brought you something,” I handed him the bag. “Careful, it literally just came out of the oven. I had to cook it after school and that took forever because I had no idea what I was doing.”

“This smells good. Damn.” He lifted the bag and sniffed it. “Did you make a calzone or something?”

“What’s a calzone? No, it’s lasagna.”

It was always so gratifying to catch Levi in a moment of happy surprise. His eyes went wide and his face softened considerably, the hardened mask of feeling everything at once slipping to show him feeling only one thing. “Oh, wow. You made a— oh, _wow_.”

“You said Italian was your favorite.”

He was holding the bag close, cradling it in one arm and pulling the aluminum foil back enough to peek. “Oh, _fuck_ , this is so gorgeous.”

“Heh,”I chuckled and grabbed the back of my neck. “Turned on by lasagna?”

“Turned on by the fact that you cooked a fucking lasagna and brought it to me on my birthday, yeah.”

I tried not to beam, but I couldn’t help it. Levi’s birthday was all about him, and all I wanted was for him to be happy, of course, so why did I feel so overwhelmingly good about myself? “It was all I could afford. Well, there’s this, too, but I didn’t buy it.” I hauled around my backpack and unzipped the top, pulling out the hastily wrapped package.

“Awww,” Levi made a sweeter face than he normally did, and looked around quickly. “Okay, it’s cold outside, you need to come in. Hey!” He cried toward the front of the house.

“What?” Erd yelled back.

“Eren’s coming into the break room with me, okay? I’m still taking an hour because it’s my fucking birthday!”

“Okay, fine!”

Levi grabbed me by the hand and pulled me into the donut shop.

I walked after him down a short, narrow hall lined with wire racks full of boxes, past a big industrial freezer. We turned before entering the actual kitchen and went into a tiny room barely big enough to hold a little table with two chairs. Later I’d find out that it was supposed to be a walk-in maintenance closet. He closed the door behind us. “I always close the door when I’m on break, because I hate anyone talking to me when I’m on break.”

“I’m talking to you, and you’re on break.”

“That’s different, you made me lasagna. You made me lasagna and I like to kiss your face.” He put the bag down on the break room table and then pulled me in to do just that.

“Happy birthday,” I mumbled between kisses.

“You’re a little brat, making me all sentimental on my birthday,” he muttered, but I could feel him smiling against my mouth.

We stopped kissing (somehow) and I urged him to eat, because I wanted to know whether my efforts to make something edible had paid off.

“What about my little present, there?” Levi gestured at the wrapped package, which I’d managed to set on the table before he ravished me with kisses.

I shrugged and sighed, looking away. “It’s a stupid thing, okay? I don’t even know if I should—“

Levi bolted by me at that, lunging for the gift and grabbing it before I could stop him. He laughed triumphantly and held it over my head, which wouldn’t have worked except that he distracted me by kissing my face again when I tried to grab for it. “I get to open my present no matter how stupid it is.”

“All right,” I groaned and turned around, hiding my face for a minute as I heard him tearing off the paper. “Okay, but it’s gonna make no sense unless I tell you what it is.”

A few seconds later he was holding in his hands a plain wooden box with a slot carved in the top, like a coin bank. “What is it?”

“Well, besides a—“

“A box. I get that part. _Don’t be a box_ ,” he giggled.

“Shut up, oh my god.” It had been a running joke that never stopped being funny during our Halloween stint as Vince and Mia. “No, it’s… it was my mom’s. Well, okay, no. Scratch that. It was my mom’s and she gave it to me.”

He got more solemn at that and waited patiently for me to go on, a humble look spreading over his face as I did.

“It’s called a Worry Box.”

“Worry Box?” He echoed thoughtfully, reining in the natural urge to be sarcastic.

“Yeah. When I was a kid she gave it to me and told me to write down things I was scared about or worried about, like murderers hiding in the house – shut up, don’t laugh, that was actually my biggest fear when I was, like, seven.”

“I’m sorry, go on.”

“Like that, or like, that Santa would think I was bad by Christmas, or bridges – I was terrified of bridges – or when mom and dad fought I’d write down that it scared me, just all these little kid worries, you know? But the thing is that I never figured out there was a latch on the bottom that opened it up if you unlocked it, so mom used to come in every few weeks and ask if I filled up the Worry Box, and she would go and shake it, and nothing would be inside. She’d say, _oh, it looks like your guardian angel took all the worries away so they can help them not happen_. And that really helped. I only found out later that it was mom who was emptying the box and taking all of those things out.”

I started to remember things and didn’t know whether I was ready to go into them. But I just breathed and went on. “After she died we found this shoebox where she’d kept all of them, over the years. She put the key in the box, too. This key.” I reached under the collar of my sweater and pulled out the brass key I’d put on an old beaded chain. I held it up and sniffed, trying to beat back the sizzling feeling of too much emotion in my blood. I smiled sadly at Levi.

“Eren, why did you give me this?” He asked softly after a few seconds.

I hoped I wouldn’t sound too cheesy. “Because I want to take all your worries away.”

I watched his eyes close slowly, saw him take a deep breath, and then saw his throat wobble as he swallowed before replying, “You little shit, you’re not allowed to be so good to me.”

I’d been worried he’d hate it, so I was high on a swirl of relief as I said, “Every weekend, I’ll come over and I’ll empty it for you.”

“I’ll fill it up in a day.” He chuckled drily, keeping his eyes closed, still holding onto the box with both hands. I was trying to think of how to respond and then I realized he’d been sniffling.

“That’s okay,” I assured him, and then paused, reaching out as Levi curled in self-consciously, laughing on the nervous vibration running through the little room. “Are you crying?” I asked.

“No!” He said strongly, straightening up again, wiping a wrist over his nose. “I’m just… I’m just hungry.”

A nervous laugh escaped from me, as well. I threw my arm out toward the table. “Well, there’s lasagna!”

Ten minutes later, he offered me some of it, proclaiming it to be “Fucking delicious.”  After tasting it, was just proud enough to admit that he was right.

The small talk as he ate (quickly) was obviously small talk. I kept glancing at the clock, knowing our time was limited.

“What are you watching the clock for? Watch me,” Levi said. He was also starting to look more heavily at me, like he was planning something and the lasagna was acting as an unexpected aphrodisiac.

“Just… you only have an hour for lunch.”

“I still have twenty minutes left, and Erd doesn’t care if I take more time. It’s not like we get busy at night, anyway.” He waved in the air and pushed the foil back down over the pan hastily. “Come here.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me from my chair, even though I was obviously skeptical about his intentions. “What? What are you—“

“Come with me,” he said flatly, walking backwards across the small room. I was hesitant; visibly so. “Don’t worry, just come with me.”

He was so unexpectedly giddy that I couldn’t resist obeying, even as he pushed open the door and pulled me inside. It turned out to be the bathroom. “What—“ I started again, but Levi slid easily between me and the wall, shutting the door and locking it before I could finish my question. “Whoa. Whoa, whoa, what—“

“Dessert,” Levi answered simply, and started to sink to a crouch. On instinct, more than anything else, I started to push against his head.

“What? No! Not in here! This is a bathroom!”

“Okay, um…” He stopped, sighed, and held up his hands, pointing _two_ fingers to accentuate what he said next. “You pee from this.” He twirled the fingers and pointed at my crotch.

“That’s not the point! It’s dirty in here.”

He scoffed and made the most offended face I’d ever seen from him. “Excuse me, but I clean this bathroom floor to ceiling every night, and if I do say so myself, it’s cleaner than the one in my apartment because I have access to industrial clea—you know what, no. The point is, it’s my birthday and I want this.” He grabbed me by the thighs and pulled me off center until I had to throw my hands against the wall. 

“Could you get fired for this?” I breathed hard as Levi unzipped my jeans and started to pull my belt open.

“Erd smokes out on his breaks, I’m the last one he’ll rat on.” He paused and smirked up at me. “Uh-huh. Acting like this didn’t turn you on or anything, your dick doesn’t lie.”

“That’s because you— ah!“  He wasn’t wasting any time.

Levi had always given incredible blowjobs. From the first night I fell asleep at his house and woke up to find him kissing down my body, I’d been amazed at the things he could do with what seemed to be such a small, unremarkable mouth. The way he sucked me effortlessly all the way to the twitching tightness at the back of his throat, and then swallowed on me so that I actually _felt_ his throat around me – Jesus, how did he learn that? I didn’t really want to think about it. I wanted to believe he learned it all for me, just for me, and all of life’s possible crossroads led to me standing wobbly-legged in the bathroom of a donut shop, hands on the wall while Levi crouched beneath me and looked up at me, pulling back so I could see my cock filling out his cheek.

“It’s your birthday,” I panted between words, catching his attention when he sucked to the tip of my cock and swiped his tongue around it. “I should be doing this for you.”

Levi laughed in his throat and looked up at me, taking the opportunity to caress my cock and hold it against his cheek while he did. That alone was more erotic than I ever would have thought. “Eren. I’m a cock man. Dream scenario is, I get to suck your dick every single time I’m horny.” He paused before putting his mouth on me again. “Which is, you know…”

“All the time,” we said together, and Levi just laughed and swallowed my cock again. I bit the inside of my bottom lip to keep from yelling at the feeling.

Just before I came, grabbing his hair hard and pulling to warn him, Levi moved back. He caught his breath and tossed his hair beautifully, an almost mischievous look on his face as he kept jerking me with his hand. I stuttered to try and form words. He wouldn’t let me get distracted by that. Levi just opened his mouth wide, sticking his tongue out just a little, pointing my cock at it. I couldn’t help surging into orgasm at that.

Seconds passed and I breathed hard. Levi just swallowed what had landed in his mouth and grabbed my arm for leverage as he rose back to his feet. A smile was on his face. That wasn’t all that was on his face. “Thanks,” he said, and breezed past me, moving to the sink.

I expected him to wash his face off immediately, but he just stood there in his tight, ribbed black sweatshirt with the cuffs and collar cut out, toe of one polished black leather boot resting on the tile of the bathroom floor as he jutted one hip out and looked at himself in the mirror. Finally, he turned back to me, smile gone from his face and replaced with his usual droll expression. “Now I need a cigarette,” he said, and then proceeded to wash his face off and his mouth out. Shakily, I gathered my bearings and followed him back into the break room. “Gonna have to do my eyeliner again, too.”

“You look really good, though.”

His face was a red and splotchy from having been washed, and his eyeliner was obviously smudged from the water, but I still leaned in to kiss his lips. Levi grabbed me gently by the collar and I could practically feel him roll his eyes. “Thanks. Shut up. Thanks for letting me blow you in the bathroom. And everything else, thanks for everything.”

“Thanks for… um…” I didn’t know what to say so I just said, “Thanks for having a birthday.”

He stepped close and curled his hands into the longer edges of the hair framing my face, and pulled up to look me in the eyes. “That’s a surprisingly deep statement.”

“I promise I just didn’t know what else to say.”

“Can you let yourself have a moment of brilliance for once?”

I paused. “Okay.”

He kissed me one more time before he had to go back to work.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooowwww oh wow okay. Yeah it's been a really long time but I took a day off today and told myself I was going to just push through all the doubts I had about this chapter and just hecking do it, and I did it. Very happy about that.
> 
> There's some smut, there's some thoughtful relationship stuff (maybe idek if it's thoughtful you guys tell me), and there's some big Mikasa and Eren sibling stuff to deal with. I neither condone nor support things discussed in this chapter, in the interest of, you know, not taking sides. Because I've lived on both sides of the argument, tbh.
> 
> Editing Proclamation this month has left me in a weird headspace regarding 1994. It's strange to look at this story and be like "yooo people are still enjoying it, this is something creative that's free, that me and this whole sub-fandom of readers is supporting and owning, and wow that's awesome" No, I'm forcing myself into the stress of editing this novel that's going out with a dollar amount attached, that is going out to represent me, that's been through such an odyssey of weird stuff. And that makes me nervous because it was written three years ago and I can clearly see how I've grown and how my own thoughts about things have grown. So I've been stuck in a creative paralysis over 1994 some days. I stopped enjoying it for a week or so because I just seize up with worry over the criticisms I might be leveled with. That's just writing, that's just writing and having problems with anxiety. But you know what? I think it's still worth it.
> 
> Please enjoy this, and please also enjoy SnK itself, and any other fics you enjoy, because enjoyment is free. <3

“Hey, Jaeger!”

I didn’t mind that Mr. Shadis called me that. I preferred it to my first name, actually, because when adults called me that it reminded me too much of my dad. Nonetheless, I jumped at his barking voice and must have seemed completely shaken when I answered. “Yes, sir?”

“You were talking about getting a Honda, right?”

I sighed and shut the door of the soda cooler I’d been stocking. The “convenience store” area of the station wasn’t even big enough for five people to walk around in comfortably, but we kept the coolers well stocked regardless. Most of the property was devoted to the garage, where Mr. Shadis lent space to a couple of mechanics who did odd jobs for local clients and their own vanity restorations. Currently there was a 1961 Nova II receiving some much-needed bondo work before rolling to a suitable location for a paint job.

“Yeah, I was gonna. But I don’t know, now. I’m thinking I might keep driving the station wagon as long as I can. Money’s tight.” I’d been dipping into my savings to help pay for gas and groceries. The power company, it turns out, was more than happy to accept Mikasa’s cash as long as she brought the bills with her. The water and gas people were the same. Mikasa swore she was all right to cover the cost, but she hadn’t gotten a job yet, so I did what I could. “Station wagon needs a timing belt, though.”

“Well, we can put one on next weekend if you’re free,” he mumbled quickly, then went on. “The point is. I know a guy who’s in the market to get rid of his grandma’s car. She’s getting up there and they don’t want her driving anymore. She owns the car, so they’re just looking for some profit on the thing. Good guy.”

“What sort of Honda?” I sneered slightly at the idea of inheriting some old lady’s naugahyde-upholstered Accord. I’d had enough of driving a land yacht – I wanted something with some speed, even if it would take longer to get it.

Mr. Shadis lifted an eyebrow sternly, no doubt at the audacity I had to look a gift horse in the mouth. “A Civic. 4th Generation, yeah, so it’s probably a bit older than what you were planning on, but it’ll still run like a dog on fire.”

I thought for a moment, taking a deep breath. “What year?”

“91.”

“How many miles are on it?”

Mr. Shadis shook with a silent laugh. “Less than 2000. This lady went from church to the beauty parlor and back home, no lie.”

“Oh, wow,” I muttered under my breath.

“If you want to go take a look at it, I can give you his number. Just be quick about it. He’s going to put it in the paper if no one bites.”

Before the end of my shift, he passed me a name and a number scribbled on a scrap of receipt paper.  My attention when I left the station, though, had to be focused on a different car altogether. Levi’s Camaro had been running no less than horribly, and one look under the hood confirmed that it was more advanced than I’d be able to diagnose without taking it to work.

“Don’t drive it until we can get it looked at, though. It’s running too hot.”

“I didn’t intend to. When I told you I hated that car,” he let me into his apartment first, “I really meant it. It’s a piece of shit.”

I hummed at the assessment. I knew he didn’t like to be lectured about preventative maintenance, much less about his complete lack of performing any. I neither agreed nor disagreed with what he said. “I can give you rides, if you want. When I can. Until I can get it fixed.”

“When am I going to have the money to fix it?” He asked, huffing into momentary anxiety at the thought. “There’s a bus stop close by here, it shouldn’t be too hard for me to get by on my own.”

My tone rose a little as I circled his dining table and grabbed the glass I’d been drinking from the day before, intending to re-use it. “I told you I’ll drive you if you need. And don’t worry about the car. I owe you, so I can front the cost for the work and stuff. I have a payback system at the station, anyway. I already used it to get new spark plugs in the Buick.”

Levi took a very deep breath and tossed his head to get the hair out of his eyes. He’d been wearing his bangs longer, but would probably be cutting them within a day or two, if I knew his habits. “What do you _owe me_ for?”

“That whole thing where Jean’s helping me get a new car because we slept together. That thing.”

He couldn’t explicitly argue with the logic, and shrugged. “I’m just afraid it’s going to be the transmission or something horrible that’ll cost you hundreds of dollars. That’s all. Besides, I thought you gave up on the idea of the new car until things settled down with the living situation.”

I told him about the Civic Mr. Shadis had mentioned, and he urged me to check it out.

“If that happens, and your car does end up being a money sink, I can’t exactly sell the station wagon, but I can sure let you use it.” I’d have to start paying for my own insurance next month, anyway, when the coverage ran out on what dad had paid. If Levi could help me with the cost of that, it would be worth it.

“Anything wrong with the station wagon?”

“Nothing, really. It’s just butt ugly.”

“Yeah, it really is.”

“I’ll find out what’s wrong with the Camaro, though. We’ll figure it out.”

Levi mumbled something as I scratched his back on the way to the refrigerator, and I had to ask him to repeat it. He didn’t look at me when he did. “I said, I’m an adult and I should be the one taking care of _you_ right now.”

I shrugged, knowing I had to tread carefully around that topic. “No one’s taking care of anyone. We’re just helping each other because life is crappy, that’s all.”

If we were to that point, I’d have said I loved him.

It was getting harder to reconcile with myself that we weren’t to that point. It had taken Armin and Jean a month. Levi and I had been together since September, and it was halfway through November without even an earnest discussion about it. The earnest discussion, I could probably talk him into. But the time never seemed right, and besides, I didn’t want to hear whatever he had to say. Somehow, I knew that even if his reasons were completely valid and understandable, I’d be crushed when I heard his voice tell me why he wasn’t ready to say _I love you_.

I said it under my breath sometimes, or mouthed it, or thought it comfortingly at the end of conversations or after good night kisses. I knew I loved him, and then when I thought too much about the fact that he hadn’t said it to me yet, I worried that it was my naivete showing itself once again. Maybe Jean and Armin and even I were stupid kids rushing into that sort of thing. I tried not to think that anything could happen tomorrow, and how terrible I’d feel if we’d never said it, and just focused on Levi holding me from behind, thanking me as humbly as he could manage, and kissing the back of my neck. “Why do you still pay for haircuts when I could do it for you?” He asked, rubbing his nose on my newly trimmed hairline.

“Because I’ve gone to the same barber since I was four years old.”

“Ah, small towns. Gotta love ‘em.” 

I had school the next morning, so I didn’t stay too late, but I did stay late enough to wind down from the day in the best way I knew. It had taken a couple of weeks, but I was on my way to getting over feeling embarrassed or self-conscious while he fucked me. We left the lights on in his room that night and I straddled his lap, turned my back to him so he could knead and slap my ass while I moved on top of him. “This is a great view,” he assured me.

“Thanks,” I replied breathlessly, a bite of conceit in my voice as I ground myself down with a swiveling motion. Levi sucked in a sharp moan and raked his nails over my skin.

My center of gravity pitched forward less than a minute later, as I felt him shifting to sit up behind me and beneath me. He put a steadying hand around my waist. “Keep going,” he said, though I whimpered and found it a little difficult to do anything. I was impressed at his strength as Levi gathered me to sit in his lap, rested his head between my shoulders and gasped hard breaths against my back. It was a strange angle that made me feel like he was stretching me wider than usual, so I just rolled my hips in tiny bursts of friction on top of him.

“And this way I can also do this,” he started in a dark, mischievous tone, and before I could prepare myself he reached around to squeeze my cock. Pumping me tightly, he opened his mouth on my shoulder, teeth sinking gently into my skin until his orgasm hit and they bit in with more force than I’d expected.

“Jesus,” I groaned, every rhythm thrown off as Levi came and the separate pain shot through my shoulder.

“Was that too much?” He panted, voice thick and breath still hot on the spot he’d bitten.

I shook my head, trying to just concentrate on the adrenaline it had caused and the way he was getting me so close. “Almost,” I nudged the word around a whine, though I was talking about my orgasm and not his question.

His tongue pressed against my shoulder and I felt a sharp flash as I realized he’d broken the skin just slightly. He was licking me carefully, dragging the tip of his tongue slow and hard around the bite mark until he muttered, “Eren,” and I threw myself over the edge, knowing it wouldn’t get better.

Several minutes later, I contorted in front of the bathroom mirror and looked at my Sex With Levi merit badge. “It’s not that bad,” I said, though Levi was right next to me to demand I put Neosporin on it.

“It’ll bruise tomorrow,” he said matter-of-factly, like he knew exactly what he was talking about. I decided, for once, not to let it slide.

“Oh, yeah? I guess you know from experience.”

“Oh, yeah,” he chuckled, and I gently slapped his hand away when he went for it with a cotton-swab again. “Hey, don’t do that. This is important. That I actually give a damn about your stupid love bites getting infected or something is important.”

“It’s not gonna get infected, I don’t even worry this much when a cat scratches me. This is nothing. You’re taking all the sexiness away from it.”

He rolled his eyes and slipped the band-aid back into the box. “Fine, whatever. I’m not taking you to the hospital if the worst happens.”

“I’m sorry, in what car?”

He paused for a moment and then shoved me. I shoved back, and we play-fought until I had both of his wrists in my hands, pinning him into the bathroom wall. Levi surrendered with a self-satisfied smile, and stretched beneath me into a kiss.

I brought one of his wrists down and turned it over, looked at the smooth, pale skin where he usually wore long sleeves or leather cuffs. I glanced at him. “What?” He said.

I lifted the wrist to my mouth and opened my lips there, keeping my eyes on Levi’s, watching for a reaction when I bared my teeth. I didn’t see much by way of approval in his expression, but I didn’t see rejection either.

“Well?” He smirked after I hesitated just a second too long. “Do it.”

On the fleshiest bit of his wrist I could get between my teeth, just next to the tracks of nerves and veins, I bit down as hard as I could bring myself to, took a deep breath and clamped until I felt something yield under the tip of one tooth. It took so much more force than I’d figured. Levi gasped in reaction, and I immediately pulled away to see what I’d done.

Luckily for how much I hated dentists, I’d always had a nice, straight smile. The marks I left on his skin formed a neat and tidy football shape, and you could see clearly which tooth had done the most damage. I looked at it, almost enraptured by the weird sight, until Levi mumbled, “See? You could be a vampire,” and sighed contentedly.

“Vampires bite necks,” I said.

“Not necessarily. Who’s read the vampire books, here? Shut up.” He was smiling.

I looked back at him and pursed my lips, caught the metallic tang from the drop of blood, and cleaned the spot off with my tongue like he’d cleaned me. Then, of course, he said he needed to put a band-aid on the mark because he wouldn’t be surprised if I had rabies or something, which made me kick him lightly in the shin before I told him I was going to get dressed.   

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” He said after we kissed goodnight, as I reached back to open the door.

I froze, terrified that I’d misread his meaning. Of course I was _saying_ something else in my head, that sentimental addendum I couldn’t wait to say out loud. but that couldn’t possibly be what he meant. “Yeah, I’ll get Armin to drive me by after school and I’ll pick up the Camaro tomorrow. Do you need a ride to work?”

“Not that. Told you, I’ll take the bus. No, I mean something else you’re forgetting to take with you.”

It was almost past midnight, almost officially _late_ , and my brain wasn’t working as well as I would’ve liked. I scrunched up my face in confusion until Levi turned around and put a hand over his eyes. “Look, I’m just going to turn around, and you’re going to take something with you when you leave. Something that’s maybe sitting on the dresser in my bedroom.”

I sighed because I still had no idea what he meant, but figuring that it might be a pleasant surprise, I walked to his bedroom anyway.

Sitting on top of the dresser was the Worry Box I’d given him, and all at once I remembered. “Oh,” I muttered, and fumbled for the key around my neck. I turned the box upside down, pulled back the false bottom to reveal the keyhole, and unlocked the trapdoor.

Levi hadn’t been kidding. The box was full of folded and twisted scraps of paper, some tied into small knots and some simply wadded like they’d been crammed into the box by force. I had planned to just stash everything in my pockets, but upon seeing how much there was I looked around for anything to help me.

I ran across the hallway and into the bathroom, grabbed an empty plastic bag from under the counter where I knew Levi kept them (I’d had to do intensive cleaning before; of course I knew where they were), and emptied the Worry Box into it.

“For your information, I gave up keeping my eyes closed. Now I’m just waiting for you,” Levi called from the living room.

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t prepared.”

I just barely heard him chuckle as I reassembled the box and put it upright on his dresser again. “Dork.”

I knotted the top of the bag and held it tightly in my hand as I said goodnight to him all over again. Thankfully, the delay had earned me a redo kiss, so at least there was that.

Exhausted by the time I got home, I decided to open the bag the next day, when I had time to really process everything. I fell into bed without even letting Mikasa know I was home, and was out like a light in minutes.

The clock on my desk, which I could reach and certainly see from my bed, read 2:15a.m. in its bright red digital numbers the next time I opened my eyes. The noise that had woken me up made me think that maybe Mikasa had left the television on again; it was a bad habit mostly because she tended to keep the volume pretty loud. I kept listening, in that sleepy adrenaline moment of being torn from unconsciousness, and then I realized it was someone knocking on the front door.

I pulled the blankets up to my chin at first, trying to ignore it, telling myself that murderers didn’t knock and neither would dad if he’d wandered back into town. My silent will lasted about three minutes, and then I started to worry that it might be Armin. It might Levi. It might even be Mikasa, who sometimes left her key at home when she walked to the store and locked herself out (why she would have done so at two in the morning wasn’t something my brain was considering).

I swung my legs around to steady myself before standing, and then I heard a voice shouting from outside. “Mikasa!” It was a guy’s voice. I didn’t recognize it, even though it sounded like someone around our age. “Come on! Mikasa!”

That did it. An instinct I was sometimes unaware of kicked in and I decided that if someone was bold enough to knock on our door after midnight looking for my stepsister, they deserved the pleasure of dealing with me first.

I flung the door open without bothering to put on pants over my boxer shorts. I was wearing a sweatshirt, yeah, but the cold air hit my bare legs and made me even angrier as I confronted whoever it was. “What?!”

Jake, the shithead I’d punched in the arm after school a couple of weeks ago, reared back when he realized who I was. I mirrored the move, and dug my heels into a defensive stance. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I snarled.

“Same to you, faggot.”

“Hey!” I said it, bristling and clenching fists, before I realized that someone else had said it right along with me. It was Mikasa, her familiar grip digging into my shoulder to hold me back and pull me aside as she elbowed in between us.

“Jake, are you _mental?_ It’s two a.m.!”

“I tried paging you like ten times.”

I looked back and forth between them. “Pager?” I was ignored.

“When I don’t call you back it means I’m fucking cleaned out. Don’t come to my house. This is not okay.” She sounded firm, angry, but strangely diplomatic.

“I thought we were cool.” There was a smarmy tone to his voice that set me off even more than he usually would as he said that, spreading his arms with his hands still in the pockets of his jacket.

Mikasa sighed. “I don’t need this…” She muttered, and then Jake noticed me glaring at him.

“What are you looking at?”

Mikasa interrupted before I could talk back. The diplomacy was notably gone. “Go home, Jake!”

“Come on.” Even though I had no idea what was going on, I knew his tone was starting to edge more into aggressive territory. I kept my fists clenched. “You have to have _something.”_

“You’re cut off, numb nuts. Go home.”

“Cut off?”

“Yeah. Numb nuts.

“Don’t be a bitch!”

“Don’t show up at my house!”

“You know your boyfriend’s a homo, right?” He started. Three things happened in the next moment. First, Jake, obviously feeling invincible just because he was bigger than both of us, tried to push his way inside. Mikasa, being Mikasa, pushed me away, and then she revealed what I hadn’t even noticed she’d been holding in her other hand.

“What?” As I stumbled away from the weight of her shove, she shouted Jake down, her hands curled around a baseball bat. I didn’t recognize it, and wondered where she’d gotten it. My eyes got wider when I saw all the nails beaten into the head of it, making it into a gnarled, terrifying mace. “Say one more thing about my brother, shithead, say _one more thing_. Don’t you even _look_ at him.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He was backing up, away from the threshold, at least. “Chill out. I just—“

“Get the fuck off our property.”

He did, but not without a few more choice words, some of which actually made me see red. I tried to launch myself at him one more time, but Mikasa held me back with a shake of her head. “He’s just a pathetic asshole,” she said, closing the door over his protests.

I stood aside, stuck in a half-shrug until Mikasa faced me.

“What?”

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she muttered. “I just—“

“You have a pager? What is he cut off from? Are you dating that jerk?”

“No! No,” she said with a sneer, looking particularly insulted by the insinuation. “It’s just a thing. This thing I’m doing. Sort of work, I guess.”

I wasn’t a total idiot, and nor was I completely naïve. I’m sure I seemed like it sometimes, and maybe Mikasa had been counting on that. I nodded my head; two and two were easy enough to put together. “You’re selling drugs.”

She tossed the bat on the couch and turned around, waving her arms in the arm like she wanted to avoid to topic. “Ehhh--!”

“You are!”

“Just pot! I’m just selling pot to the kids at school, okay? There aren’t any dealers who’ll sell to Trost right now and I know some people, and—“

“Just? _Just_? It’s illegal!”

“I know!”

“Why couldn’t you just get a regular job?”

“Oh my god, Eren.” She sat down and dragged her hands over her face.

“You could go to _jail_. I could lose you.”

“Eren, I’m not going to go to _jail_ , okay? You go to jail if you get caught, and I’m not a dumbass. I know the precautions to take.” She paused and noticed that I looked worried, not angry. Her face softened. “You’re not going to lose me. Don’t you ever say that. I would never… Eren…” She whined until I asked again.

“I mean, do you not want to work a normal job, or—?”

“How much do you make an hour?” She interrupted me.

“4.50. More than minimum wage.”

“Wow, _barely._ Yeah. Sure. I’ll go find myself a shitty job, and probably get paid less for it than you would because I’m a girl. Then I’ll be stuck there all the time, won’t be able to talk to my friends or see you, or study – by the way, I study a lot, like even when I’m not at home I’m studying a lot – and I’ll still be stressed out all the time but that way I’ll have time at a lousy job to think about it while people treat me like I’m trash because they’re older or richer than me. Nah, I’m not going to do that. I don’t make a ton of money doing this, no, but I make more than I would folding shirts at Gadzook’s four hours a night. And with this, I make my own time. And believe it or not, I work for good people!”

I felt powerless to argue. Whatever she said, it was going to make sense, because I could hear how emotional it was making her. At least she was telling me. At least she was being honest. Still…

“How long were you going to keep it from me, what you were doing?”

“Until I got up the courage. New Year’s was D-Day if I hadn’t by then. I’m not gonna be a jerk-off like dad and hide that.” She reached forward to touch a spot where she’d cut her legs shaving.

We were silent for a minute or two. I sighed. Mikasa sighed, too. “Come here, at least. Sit down. I promise you, I’ve got this under control.”

I tried to distract myself from worrying however I could. I walked over and sat next to her, and Mikasa leaned her head on my shoulder. It was the other shoulder; not the one Levi had marked. “Jake didn’t seem the type,” I said.

“You’d be shocked,” she replied, chuckling.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s some of the people you’d expect, yeah, but for the most part the big ticket stoners have stoner parents. No, the people I sell to would turn your world upside down. Now, I won’t say names, because I know you’re a gossipy little dildo—“

“Hey!”

“—but I will say I’ve sold pot to at least five of the senior class Top Ten. Well, the midterm Top Ten.” She whined thoughtfully before going on, like it amused her to no end. “One will probably be the Valedictorian.”

“What?”

“Yeah! Oh, yeah. There’s so much stress in being a good student, being in all those clubs, keeping up appearances. They have to unwind, just like anyone.”

I nodded in understanding. “I mean. It’s still wrong.”

“That’s a matter of perspective. From where I stand, it’s totally cool, but on the other hand I totally respect it if you never have your mind altered by any substance stronger than Robutussin, Eren.”

I waited for her to go on. She didn’t. “Thanks. Just… be careful.”

“I will. I think I’ve gotten used to the idea of taking care of ourselves.” She nodded, and patted the baseball bat like it was a symbol of doing so.

“Was it Annie? Who got you into it?”

“Ding ding ding, oh gee how did you ever figure that out? Yeah. Believe it or not she’s near the head of her class at St. Maria’s, her dad gives her all this shit to be perfect all the time. So that’s how she started. She had to calm down somehow. She introduced me to some people that sell, and I actually asked how to get into it. I did it, okay? It was my decision, before you go off blaming people. The opportunity presented itself at the perfect time.” Her hand stilled on the bat.

“Did she give you that bat?”

Mikasa actually gave a bright, sharp laugh. “Nope. I found it in dad’s old shit in the garage while I was cleaning up and put all the nails in it myself. I like it. I mean, I need to have something to defend the house. I sure as hell don’t have a boyfriend to kick someone’s ass for me – not that I’d need one – or a brother who can do anything but go off on weird berserker rages.”

“What the hell does berserker mean?”

She chuckled. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You’ve got a girlfriend who could kick some ass, though.”

Mikasa’s expression softened considerably and her lips twitched on an obviously forced line of calm. “Nah.”

“What? But you and Annie are—“

“She likes someone else. She told me. We’re just… we’re best friends. It’s complicated and it sort of brings me down. Listen, I don’t need to worry about anyone but you right now, okay?” She put her arm around my shoulders and squeezed me with a playful growl. I winced slightly. Levi was right. I could feel a bruise coming on.

After we talked a bit longer, Mikasa said she was going to sleep on the sofa with the bat close by, if I wanted to go back to bed. I asked her not to keep the television volume too loud as I yawned my way into the hall. She said she made no promises.

I wasn’t going to sleep, I realized as 3:42a.m. greeted me from the clock on my desk. Not yet, at least. So I sat cross-legged on my bed, felt the overwhelming quiet of unreasonably early morning surround me, and pulled over the crinkly bag I’d tied up before I left Levi’s.

Undoing my own knot was impossible, so I jabbed two thumbs into the plastic and tore it open, letting the scraps of paper fall out like candy from a piñata. Some landed in my lap and others bounced away on the bed. I sighed and resolved to read them, to think about them, to transfer them to a shoebox I’d already earmarked for the purpose, and to stop if I felt overwhelmed.

My heart started to beat faster as I realized the things I was about to read. I lifted one of the neatly folded paper scraps and unfolded it.

_I can’t afford health insurance. If anything happens I’m boned._

I nodded at that one, understanding it only because Levi had explained to me how important it was. I dropped it into the shoebox and went on to the next.

_My car will break down and I will have no way to get to work because I have no money saved up._

A deep breath filled my lungs before I realized I’d taken it. I appreciated our earlier conversation even more.

_This isn’t a worry, really, but I got so excited to make an omelette and then I realized I was out of eggs, but if I buy a whole thing of eggs I know they’ll go bad, because I never eat a whole thing of eggs. Do I waste food, or just buy an omelette at Waffle House?_

That one made me laugh.

_I have a small penis._

That made me laugh, too, until I realized that he was being serious. He was worried about that. I’d had no idea. I leaned my chin into my hand and looked at his handwriting, realized how honest those words were. I’d have to find my own way, without being too obvious about it, to let him know how wrong he was, in my eyes at least.

My eyelids were starting to droop. I tried to gather some of the scraps back into the bag. There weren’t as many as I’d thought at first glance, but I was still only about halfway through them. My fingers fluttered haphazardly over a few different ones, but then I caught a word out of the corner of my eye, written on the edge of a folded piece: _love._

Nervously, I grabbed for it, and unfolded it. I sucked in a quick breath to realize how much was written there, words small and shoved in to fill the space on the back of a pizza coupon.

_I don’t know if I’m not ready to love yet or if I never have been, or if I’m just incapable of feeling it, or if I keep waiting for something to tell me “this is real, there’s no more waiting on a sign, this is the feeling, this is that feeling you’ve been waiting for, it doesn’t get more obvious.” I really wish I could hear that, even if I know I probably won’t believe it when I hear it. The part about being incapable of feeling it, that scares me the most. What if this isn’t it? I don’t want to be a liar. So I’m scared to say I love you out loud, even if I’m thinking it. I’m scared to think it, because by putting I love you on it, that’s a beginning, right? And beginnings always end. You’d think I’d be so happy at 25 to feel love for the first time, but maybe I’m still not sure if that’s what this is. I’ll joke about it, but when it comes down to it I hate risks. I hate chances. Love is an expectation and what if I’m not good enough for what’s expected?_

Without being told, I knew I wasn’t supposed to mention it. I was supposed to act like I’d never read it, to react as I might, but not to discuss it or bring it up. I pushed the shoebox aside and leaned back in bed, read it again, got up, turned the light off, got my flashlight out, read it again, took it sentence by sentence and read those sentences last to first because it worked just as well that way. Every time, I was hit by different feelings, but one feeling surpassed all of them, and that feeling came indescribably along with knowing I’d made Levi feel things he’d never felt before. My heart pounded and I knew what he meant. Expectations. Responsibility. I didn’t really care.

The television was loud in the living room, but Mikasa had left it on the Weather Channel to fall asleep. That was relaxing enough to let me think, as I drifted off with Levi’s note still in my hand, maybe none of us were kids anymore, but maybe none of us were adults yet, either, and that was okay because none of that was our fault, and all we could do was just let things happen, let feelings happen, and not be worried about them so much all the time.

I wished I could tell Levi that, but in the last hazy moments before sleep I knew it wasn’t about telling him anything. I’d just have to show him what it was like.

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm looking at my A/N box here and thinking "wow what do I want to say that hasn't already been said?"
> 
> This is the final chapter of 1994, and it feels pretty good.
> 
> Hell yeah. Hell yeah, hell yeah. Fuckin' right, fuckin' right, all right. 
> 
> There we go, that pretty much sums it up.
> 
> I tried to return to the original feeling of the story -- just simplicity and hopefully some humor. Enjoy it, as I've enjoyed writing it. <3

_Levi_

I’d started to worry about wrinkles. It was only because Nana had been in the same dressing room watching me put on eyeliner and launched into a fit about how I pulled at the corners of my eyes for better access to my lids. “Don’t fucking do that. Do you see what happens to a rubber band over time? Pull at your skin enough and you’ll get loose and wrinkly. I don’t care what else you do to yourself, honey, but I can’t abide you doing that to that pretty face of yours.”

Nana and I were sharing a dressing room again, because the club was hosting a headliner from out of town. She’d taken over Nana’s dressing room only because I wouldn’t let anyone near mine unless I trusted them or wanted to suck their dick. I trusted Nana.

I kept pushing against the tighter skin on my temples, lifting what was next to my eyes and on the rise of my cheeks, letting it fall back into place and scowling at the difference. “You look fine. Stop pulling at your face,” Nana said as she laughed at me.

“I’m dating a sixteen year old.”

“And what does that have to do with it?”

“Just…” I sighed and looked critically at the mirror. I would have tossed my hair, but I already had it pulled back. “I want to always be the pretty one.”

Nana paused with a lip pencil halfway to a mouth that was smirking too hard for her to keep working on. “Well, that’s an honest way to put it.”

“I’m gonna get old and that’s some hard shit to take, you know?”

Nana didn’t like me talking about my age. I was still a baby. “Yeah, bitch, I do know.”

“Don’t get all defensive, you still look like you’re 18.”

After a good-natured mumble that I’d better recognize that fact, Nana said, “Well, look at it this way. You already stay out of the sun – fucking vampire – and that’s pretty much the entire secret to looking young.”

“I should start drinking blood.”

“Please don’t start drinking blood. You’re a freak.”

I smirked and held my wig in hand, fingering a few tangles out. “How’s it going, by the way? With babycakes?”  That’s what she called Eren.

I didn’t want to be too enthusiastic. I was finding it difficult to allow myself enthusiasm, actually. Careful not to seem neither optimistic nor sad, I shrugged one shoulder. “It’s good.”

“Yeah? You’ve just been really quiet on it, lately.”

“Eh, we’re both busy, and I’ve had other shit to worry about. I don’t want to be that guy who talks about his boyfriend all the time. Anyway—“

I allowed her to cut me off because she knew I wasn’t going anywhere with the statement. “How long have you two been dating, now?”

I counted on my fingers quickly, because months tended to run together. “Four months? A bit longer than that? I don’t know, around four months.”

“Awww.”

“Yeah I guess it’s okay.”

Nana capped her lipstick pointedly and sighed. “You can act _happy_ around me, you know. I won’t tell anyone your dark secret. I won’t tell a soul that Levi cracked a smile.”

“I smile. I smile a lot.”

That lie was ignored. “Do you love him?”

I paused. I looked down into my bag full of makeup and suddenly couldn’t tell the difference between my powder and my nail polish. It took me a few seconds. Nana let the moments pass with exceptional stillness. “Yeah,” I finally said, quietly, like it wasn’t important.

“Your tone of voice suggests that you haven’t told him.”

“You don’t just fall in love with someone when you’re their first everything, it’s like inviting the worst.”

“What’s the worst?”

“Didn’t expect the Spanish Inquisition.”

 “I’m not in the mood for Monty Python.” Her hands were on her hips, and that was a bad sign. Nana had a highly developed parental instinct that wouldn’t let me get out of the conversation about my emotional wellbeing without adequately defending myself. “What’s the worst? That he doesn’t love you back?”

“Oh, no. He loves me.” Saying it was exciting. _Knowing_ it was exciting. I still tried to act like it was nothing, like it was burden to carry because it made everything complicated.

“What’s the worst?”

I chewed on the inside of my lip and didn’t look at her.

She went on. “That you’ll break up? That your heart might get broken?”

“Yeah!” I practically overlapped her, snapping because I didn’t want her to make me feel soft, vulnerable, at the mercy of a stupid emotion.

“Well, bad news, sugar, that’s every single relationship for the rest of your life.”

“I know that! It’s just—“

Despite the parental tendency, Nana wasn’t the sort to nag, so she cut me off as tenderly as possible while swiping a brush over her cheeks in a well-practiced ritual. “You’re the one being unfair to him, to not tell him. Besides, you’re also being cynical.”

I laughed bitterly; just a yelping, momentary sound. Nana turned to fix me with a glare at that. “What?” She asked.

“Nothing, just… it’s ironic, I guess. He called me cynical, once, and I actually contradicted him. Told him I was a romantic.”

“Well, you do like contradicting people.”

My silence was an implicit agreement. Apparently that was the cue to carry on with our makeup and no further discussion on the matter. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was sufficiently prepared to attempt my eyeliner without pulling at my skin too much. “Can I borrow your Clinique liner?”

“Bitch, I am not sharing a dressing room with you so you can mooch off my good makeup, you’ll use your Maybelline shit and you’ll be fine.”

It’s hard to argue with advice when someone like Nana is giving it. I asked her for a ride home, though, and she gave me that. Being at the club meant free drinks and being driven meant I could appreciate them more, so I was two sheets to the wind by the time I got home.

Hanji’s birthday present for me was a rather expensive vacuum cleaner, because she knew I was still struggling with the second-hand one I’d grabbed at a yard sale months ago. To the uninitiated it might seem like an impersonal gift from my best friend in the world, but Hanji knew me _exactly_ well enough to know it was the perfect thing. And what are gifts between loved ones, really? Half the time they’re just a test to see how well you know what the other person wants. Hanji had me pegged since high school. She was the first and last person, outside of my family, that I said _I love you_ to.

I thought about that a little as I vacuumed my entire apartment for the third time that week. It was a week into December, I was 26 years old, and it had been ten years since then. My brain ran loose, less on a train of thought and more on a tether as it bounced all around in my head, thinking of Hanji and thinking of high school and thinking of parents and the passage of time and Eren’s place in all of it.

It’s weird, when you get older, how your timeline starts to feel more and more crowded. Maybe that’s why I didn’t feel, for so long, that Eren could fit the way he was supposed to.  

 “Ugh,” I said under the influence of too much thought and maybe too much Clorox All-Purpose Cleaner once I made it to the bathroom. I sat back, knees folded beneath me, staring at the same spot on the grout on the bathtub that I tried to clean every single week, knowing full well that it would never, ever come out.

If I redid just that one section of the grout work, it would look uneven. The color of white would be off. If I just put new grout over it, it would be too thick. The color would still be off. I’d have to knock out every tile and start over from scratch, just to fix that one stupid spot that I kept trying to clean.

My fingers, in their rubber gloves, tightened slowly over my knees. I knew it. I knew in my mind that it was just another symptom, it was just another thing caused by my potentially faulty thought process, but I still started breathing harder, started to get a little overwhelmed; looking at the spot, knowing it would still be there or else I’d have to mount an impossible project to fix it.

Funny how in matters of myself and other people, hearts and minds, I leapt right to the big picture, the question of _is it even worth it?_ , the ultimate fatalist resignation of nothing really mattering. But when it was a little spot in my bathroom, I obsessed and extrapolated and tried to think of every possible solution, and in the absence of a solution I somehow managed to start at the beginning again.

“Ugh,” I repeated, closing my eyes and pulling my gloves off. I don’t know whether I thought I was being defiant or rebellious or poignant or what, but I left everything right there on the floor and marched myself to bed. I rolled my eyes and scolded myself for that in the morning, but I can also say that I consciously stopped myself from trying to scrub out that spot again before I put all my cleaning shit back in the proper place.

Eren came over after his shift, asked how my show went, and I told him about the headliner and how she was a diva with an attitude problem who needed to fire her agent if she hated playing small towns so much. I kissed him in the kitchen, let him warm his hands up by sliding them into the back pockets of my jeans, and finally asked how his day was.

“You mean the last three days?” He smirked, nose still close to mine. He chewed a lot of gum at the gas station so his breath was usually mint or cinnamon or something that actually achieved the impossible in making me want to kiss him even more. I held myself back, though, enough to let him keep speaking.

“Yeah.”

“Well, first of all, about the car…” We moved into the living room and I turned the volume down on the TV. Eren proceeded to give me a detailed and impressively technical rundown of what had been done to my car by the small cadre of amateur mechanics at the gas station, and I was too proud of his enthusiasm to interrupt and tell him that I had no idea what he was talking about. “Anyway, we ordered the gasket from Luke’s friend for _that_ discount, so as soon as it’s here we’ll pretty much be done, and I’m just paying the biggest part back by working as a shop assistant now.”

“That’s good, that’s really good. Thanks.”

“Well, I mean, I love working in the shop so it’s an easy way to learn without having to worry about fucking up while someone’s paying me to do it, you know? Word’s getting out so there’s a lot of stuff to do. Someone’s bringing in a ’57 Chevy to have us put in the engine. It’s a restoration. So that’ll be really cool.”

I nodded. “What about the Civic?”

“It’s great.” He answered more happily than I’d answered Nana about being in love with him, but I could tell he was still holding back. He loved his new car, and he’d sold the station wagon to the shop to help pay for it. Jean Kirchstein helped too, of course, which still amused me to no end. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to go for a ride tonight, actually.”

Tilting my head slightly at him, I nodded. “Yeah, that sounds cool.”

“I just want to drive forever, now that I have a car I like driving.”

“I know the feeling.”

Eren paused, and part of me knew he was about to tell me how great my Camaro would be running by the time he got it back to me. The process was taking forever, but it was worth it. I felt a very strange rush of responsibility to actually be paying for it, little by little, even if Eren’s new connections with car people made the cost significantly less for me.  But before he could feed me some excited platitude, he suddenly grimaced and clutched his stomach, hissing. “Crap,” he added. I asked him if he was okay.

He shook his head at the same time that he groused, “Yeah…” and went on to tell me about the state of his health. As he spoke I zoned out, which is something I rarely did, just looking at him and watching him talk, wondering when he’d turned from a boy of three or four amusing and sometimes contradictory personality traits into a person with a full-fledged, complex life that I knew all about. I knew his speech patterns, his normal gestures, the way he stood and even the way he slept.

Knowing someone else fully was strange and disarming, and normally I’d just sneer and call it gross. I was spending my free time – the free time we wanted to spend, at least – with a high school kid who wanted to work on cars but also wanted to go to college, who agonized over his schoolwork but still wouldn’t let me tutor him because it was _too weird_. He was a good brother. He was a good son even if he had nowhere to direct that energy, and I understood that so well that we knew we didn’t need to talk about it.

Part of me still wanted to hold him up like a pest between thumb and forefinger, asking the world at large “What is this? This wasn’t meant for me, surely. What am I supposed to do with this?” Because he was the opposite of everything I’d planned. I _knew_ who I was waiting for. I knew what was supposed to be in my path. I had it figured out.

And that’s the strangest feeling, the most helpless you’ll ever be in your life, to know that your plans don’t count for shit when it comes to other people, because people aren’t fucking spots in the grout in your bathroom that you just choose to fix or ignore or try to keep cleaning off.

It’s also kind of amazing, though, that feeling.

He stopped talking about looked right at me. Stupid emerald green eyes and stupid baby face; I’d have to remind him not to stay out in the sun too much because even if I wanted to be the pretty one, he needed to take care of his skin, too.

“I love you,” I said.

First, his eyebrows pushed together, giving him that utterly confused look for a moment, while his shoulders bowed up and his eyes darted back and forth. He seemed horrified.

“What?” I asked, when he still wouldn’t look at me and even started to grimace a little.

“Just… whoa. After what I just said.”

“What did you just say?” He looked supremely annoyed to know I hadn’t been listening, but I quickly added, “I’m sorry.”

Eren rolled his eyes and touched the tips of his fingers to his forehead, embarrassed to repeat it. “That I couldn’t figure out why my stomach hurt so bad all day and I couldn’t tell whether I needed to throw up or fart.”

There was a pause and we looked quickly in different directions. Then, our eyes wandered back and we just sort of stared at each other. “Oh. Gross.”

“Yeah.”

“I love you,” I repeated.

“I love you, too.” His voice was soft, and he reached in for my hand. His fingers were still slightly cold, so I clutched them tighter.

Maybe things wouldn’t work out. Maybe I would change, maybe he would change, maybe we would do that together or maybe we would do it apart, maybe I would go on living like a long-form tragic poem and die alone or maybe I would start wearing polo shirts instead of high heels and start paying taxes. Maybe something in between would happen.

Maybe it was okay to admit I was happy.

Sometimes it’s best to just leave everything where it is and hope for the best in the morning. I don’t know what morning is. The metaphor isn’t that strong, I’m sorry.

“Does your stomach still hurt that bad?” I asked him.

He was fidgeting very slightly with my hand, because Eren always tended to hold his extreme bursts of emotion inside. Knowing this, I knew his little twitches were saying how happy he was, too. Sometimes that thing people call communication is just as easy as knowing someone really well.

“Yeah, a little.”

“I’m just gonna ask, are you too sick to fuck?”

“I am not.”

“Chicken soup or bumping uglies, this is your last chance.”

Eren’s hand slid on my thigh and he grabbed my crotch with a flat, “Don’t fuck with me.”

“You’re sending mixed signals, still,” I barely managed not to laugh as I said it, and then Eren’s mouth was covering mine. He moved off of his bean bag chair and over mine – over _me_ – kissing and groping and doing that thing where he showed me instead of told me exactly what he meant. That thing I absolutely loved.

“It’s been a good week,” Eren mumbled between kisses, as my hands wrapped on his waist and rubbed up under his work shirt. “And it keeps getting better.”

“It’s turning out to be a good year,” I added. He was too busy to respond, but I can only assume he agreed. 


End file.
